Foreshadowing the Past
by A-is-for-Amy
Summary: Harry Potter's time at Hogwarts is over, and now it's time for his son's adventure to begin. Follow Connor as he deals with classes, Quidditch, precognition, and a mysterious dream that will lead them on an adventure left unfinished from twenty years ago
1. Default Chapter

**Prologue  
**  
_Fear not for the future, weep not for the past. -Percy Bysshe Shelley  
_  
"Grandma, will you tie my shoes?"  
  
Molly looked down at little Connor, who was sitting on the floor and holding one of his feet into the air, and sighed happily. All of the children were growing up so fast! It was hard to believe that this little boy was already almost six years old! Life had rewarded her family well, and she wished with a pang that Arthur could have lived to see it.  
  
She knelt down beside her grandson with a smile, ruffling his mop of black hair before she took the laces in hand, and manually tied them while he watched the process, his serious green eyes taking in every step. He had been trying to learn to tie his own shoes over the past month, but had not yet mastered the chore. He soon became frustrated with her slow methodical tying when she reached the second shoe, and wriggled impatiently, urging her to hurry.  
  
"Grandma!" he said, drawing the last syllable out for an extra beat. "They're going to start without me!"  
  
Molly chuckled and finished the bow. "There you are, sweetheart. All done!"  
  
Connor jumped to his feet and grabbed his broomstick, looking like a miniature version of his father, and headed straight for the door. His little hand was on the handle, and Molly cringed, waiting for the door to be flung wide and slam into the wall as the child exited, but the crash never came. Instead Connor had frozen in place and announced, "Auntie Hermione is going to have another baby."  
  
Molly was startled by this news and asked, "She is?" She felt slightly hurt that Connor would have known such happy news before her. She waved that bit of dented pride away, thinking that he must have overheard Ron telling his father about it, or some such thing.  
  
"Uh-huh," he nodded. "A girl one."  
  
"How on earth do you know that?" Molly asked with surprise. Ron and Hermione had not wanted to know the baby's gender for the last two pregnancies; why would they break with tradition this time?  
  
Conner shrugged and then flung the door wide with a crash and ran to join his cousins in the garden. The children had organized a game of Shuntbumps, and were busily preparing to try to knock each other off of their brooms with padded "lances" that Bill and Charlie had devised for them. Molly stepped onto the porch of the Burrow to take in the scene. It was turning out to be a beautiful warm June day, and perfect for celebrating the eleventh birthday of her oldest Grandchild, Sarah. She would be the first of the newest generation of Weasleys to attend Hogwarts in two and a half months time, and Bill and Fleur were as proud as any parents could be. The family was scattered all around the garden, enjoying the day and each other's company.  
  
Molly spotted Percy and his wife, Susan sitting in the shade with their three-month-old Judith asleep on a blanket beside her two year old cousin Matthew, who was Charlie and Brianna's youngest. Brianna and Susan chatted quietly while their children napped, and Percy was looking on with concern as his three-year-old son, Brian, rode the toy broomstick with reckless abandon. Fred was sitting at a table with his wife Catherine, Ginny, George's wife, Zoë, and Bill and Fleur. It was easy for Molly to tell her twins apart since George had lost his left arm during the attack that had taken their father from them. That had been many years ago, now, but she could still feel the lump form in her throat when she thought of it.  
  
Pushing the sad thoughts away, Molly scanned the relative chaos of the game going on in front of her. Harry, Ron, Charlie and George were all supervising the children on broomsticks, making sure that older kids weren't too rough with the younger ones, and scooping the unseated players out of harm's way in good time. There were shrieks of laughter and snippets of conversation all around her, and Molly was filled with peace and contentment. She had all of her children safe, and they had married well and had produced seventeen grandchildren for her to dote on. If she heeded Connor's announcement of a few minutes ago, that number was going to increase by one in the next few months.  
  
Molly spotted Hermione filling drink cups and standing beside Ron, and decided to go and congratulate her on her news.  
  
"They're going to all end up in St. Mungo's at this rate," Hermione said with a laugh as she watched Connor attempt to make his toy broomstick speed up. "He's definitely one of Harry's!"  
  
"He's got just as much Weasley blood," Ron grinned as he watched his Rachel surreptitiously grab the tail of Connor's broom and give it a tug. Connor reached back and made a swipe at the long red plaits that hung from his cousin's head, but she was too quick. The two were only a year apart, with Connor in the lead, and they were fiercely competitive.  
  
"Hermione!" Molly smiled as she wove her way around the kids. "I hear that you're going to have a new addition to your family!"  
  
"Sorry to disappoint you, Mum," Ron smiled, "But I think you heard wrong."  
  
"Actually," Hermione blushed. "She _didn't_. I don't know how you heard, though, as I just found out myself this morning! I'm due in January."  
  
"We're having another baby?" Ron shouted.  
  
There was a moment of silence all around, which was suddenly broken by cheers from all sides. A grin broke out on Ron's face, and Hermione nodded and stepped into her husband's happy embrace.  
  
"How did you know, Molly?" Hermione asked. "I haven't told anyone."  
  
"Connor told me," Molly answered with her brow furrowed.  
  
"Connor!" Ron called the boy over, and attracted the attention of his parents, who headed over to see what the problem was.  
  
Conner rode his broom over and hovered on it at about waist level to the adults.  
  
"How did you know I was going to have a baby?" Hermione asked him gently.  
  
Harry and Ginny looked at each other warily before turning their attention to their son. Connor shrugged his shoulders and said unconcernedly, "Dunno. _She's_ going to have one too!" He pointed to the table that Ginny had just left, Straight at George's wife, Zoë.  
  
Zoë held her hand up in front of her and said with a laugh, "I don't think so," when all eyes turned to her.  
  
"Uh-huh!" Connor contradicted firmly, as if it was absurd that she would contradict him. "A girl one, just like Auntie Hermione!"  
  
"Sorry kid," George said, scooping him up off of the broom expertly in his one arm. "But if Zoë says she's not having another baby, there's not much else to argue about."  
  
"I told you, she's going to have a girl!" Connor insisted. He rolled his eyes at them in a manner that belied his six and a half years that told them all that he thought they were being dim-witted.  
  
"Is it possible, Zoë?" Ginny asked cautiously.  
  
"Anything's possible," Zoë laughed. "But as great as that would be, unless it's happened in the last three weeks, I wouldn't count on it."  
  
"Look," Hermione said with an amused grin, "There's one logical way to settle this." She walked over to Zoë and asked, "Do you mind if I check?"  
  
Zoë rolled her eyes as well and said, "Why not?" George set Connor on his feet and walked over to stand beside his wife, an amused smile on his lips.  
  
Ginny and Harry's eyes met again, and they both stood beside a bored looking Connor while they watched Hermione mutter a soft incantation under her breath, and hold her wand in front of Zoë's flat stomach. When her want lit with a blue glow that indicated a positive response, everyone gasped, and Harry put a hand on his son's shoulder in a protective gesture.  
  
"I told you so," Connor said, when everyone looked back to him.  
  
George was now kneeling in front of his wife, and they both looked stunned, but pleased with what they had just learned. Their four and a half year old daughter jumped off of her little broom and ran over and asked, "Is mummy really going to have a baby?"  
  
"It looks that way," George grinned, putting his arm around her.  
  
Molly hadn't missed the looks that had passed between Ginny and Harry, or the way they flanked their son as his predictions were proven to be true. As their twins, Lucy and Ian, ran over to see what was keeping their big brother out of the game, Ginny told Connor to go ahead and get back to playing while the adults all gathered around the table for an impromptu family meeting.  
  
"All right, you two," Ron said without preamble once they were all grouped together. "Spill it."  
  
Harry sighed, and pulled off his glasses to rub tiredly at his eyes. Ginny put an arm around him and checked behind her to make sure that none of the children were paying too much attention. "Connor has been making predictions about little things for about a month now," she said quietly. "At first we thought it was just coincidence, but now we're not so sure."  
  
Harry replaced his glasses and added, "Little things, like Ginny's bracelet falling behind the sofa, and Lucy's Puffskein hiding in the flour canister. Last week he told me that Uncle Fred was coming, and about five minutes later, Fred Apparated into our front garden. Any of that could be chalked up to clever observation or coincidence. But there's been other things too, that have been making us question that."  
  
"Like what?" Hermione asked, fascinated by this turn of events.  
  
"He knew that Harry was going to get a raise in pay the day before it happened," Ginny explained, "And when we took him into Flourish and Blots the other day, he told Mrs. Diggory that book she was planning to buy was missing some pages in the middle. When she checked, pages 214 through 222 were blank."  
  
The rest of the family was staring at Ginny and Harry with varying degrees of shock and disbelief on their faces.  
  
"Have you asked anyone about this?" Bill asked. "Taken him to St. Mungo's?'  
  
"He's not sick!" Ginny answered tersely.  
  
"Of course not, dear," Molly immediately answered soothingly. "No one's saying that. But if Connor is showing signs of being a seer, shouldn't he be tested?"  
  
"By whom?" Ginny asked. "I don't want him to be labeled by some researcher and made into a spectacle. He's not even six years old yet, and he's already got to live with the fact that he's Harry Potter's son."  
  
Harry comforted Ginny, and said, "I've already sent a letter to Dumbledore, asking his advice. We'll be better able to make some sort of decision once we hear what he recommends. Until then, we're just going to wait and see what happens. What he's doing doesn't seem like prophecy making to me, but more like having premonitions. We might not have to do anything at all about it."  
  
No one was very convinced by Harry's last statement, but there really wasn't anything more they could say, and so they focused on the good news of the day, and celebrated the birthday that they had all gathered for, and the newest additions to the Weasley family that were on the way.  
  
The reply from Dumbledore came three days later. He was abroad just then, but had asked a good friend of his by the name of Amelia MacTaggart, who was particularly versed in forms of Divination, to come and evaluate Connor's talent. Harry was reminded forcefully of Professor McGonagall when she first arrived on their doorstep only two days later. She wore her hair in a similar style to his old transfiguration teacher, and wore similar spectacles, but that was where the similarities ended. Once she was introduced to Connor, her severe manner evaporated, and she smiled warmly at him. She asked to be left alone with him for a couple of hours, and when they emerged from their meeting, they both wore smiles and seemed to be comfortable in each other's company. She sent him off to play with his brother and sister before preparing to talk to his parents, who were obviously anxious. Connor's father had experience with prophecies in the past, as was well known in the Wizarding world, and she was sure he was wondering what all of these things happening with is son meant.  
  
"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Potter," she began. They were seated at their kitchen table, having tea while they discussed Connor. "Dumbledore thinks very highly of you, and I can see why. Connor is a delightful boy. I've spoken with him, and used a few small spells and charms on him to try to ascertain the extent of his abilities to date. He's a clever child for his age, and we got on very nicely; you should be very proud of him, indeed."  
  
"We are," Ginny assured her. "He's a joy to be around."  
  
"That he is," Mrs. MacTaggart agreed. "I want to put your mind at rest straight away. I do _not_ think that Connor is a seer in the strictest sense of the word. He is making predictions, certainly, but I don't believe that he is going to be making any prophecies."  
  
"What exactly is the difference between a prediction and a prophecy?" Harry asked with relief evident in his voice. He did not want his son to be a seer; his own connection with two separate prophecies almost twenty years ago had turned his life upside down, and he was not comfortable with the idea that his oldest son might one day speak the words that would rule another person's life in the future.  
  
"For the most part, prophecies tend to deal mostly with major historical events. The seer will usually deliver a prophecy from a trance-like state, and it will often come in the form of a riddle to be solved, or be open to different interpretations. They often aren't aware of what they've said during the delivery, and would need a witness to record it." She paused to let this information sink in. She had given them a very simplified explanation of a very complicated subject, but they really didn't need to be bored to tears over her research. "What Connor is doing is making clairvoyant predictions. Generally they are about things in the present, like finding lost objects and that sort of thing, sometimes the past, or events that will occur not very far into the future. He doesn't enter a trance-like state to receive the information, though he may pause from time to time as he absorbs the new knowledge. He's actually one of the most perceptive clairvoyants that I've ever encountered, having seemingly dozens small revelations a day, though that could be down to his youth, and the openness of his mind. He probably doesn't even recognize that it's happening for the most part, and just finds that the information is suddenly in his mind, where it wasn't before; like his knowledge of your sister-in-law's pregnancy before she even knew it herself."  
  
"So what should we do about it?" Ginny asked, trying to understand that this woman had just told her that Connor was experiencing dozens of clairvoyant events _every day_. "Will he need special schooling or training of some sort?"  
  
"No, no!" Amelia assured her firmly. "Not at all. Just do as you have been doing, and continue to raise your son to be happy and healthy. He will learn to recognize these little visions for what they are in time, and will most likely cope with them in stride. I would suggest keeping an eye on him so that he doesn't depend on the information he 'receives' as absolute truth, and to protect him from anyone who might try to exploit him for his abilities. Only time will tell as to whether or not he will eventually be able to control his talent and to channel it toward specific demands or come up with answers to specific questions."  
  
"So we do... nothing?" Harry asked with surprise.  
  
"Encourage him to use discretion, especially as he grows older, and keep an eye out for signs of anyone trying to use him and his abilities for personal gain. You two are doing a wonderful job as parents, and it shows through Connor. All you have to do is keep up the good work." She answered warmly. "Has either of your twins exhibited signs of having a similar talent?"  
  
"No," Ginny answered. "Is it likely that they will?"  
  
"Not particularly," Amelia smiled. "However it would have been fascinating for my research! Feel free to contact me if Connor develops any other talents in this area, or if you have any concerns."  
  
"Thank you." Harry and Ginny saw their guest to the door, relieved and concerned at the same time with what they had learned.  
  
"Don't mention it," she smiled. Before she Apparated away, she smiled mischievously at the couple before her and said, "Oh! And according to Connor, congratulations are in order for the two of you as well!"  
  
She chuckled at their stunned looks of dawning comprehension before disappearing with a _pop_.  
  
_**End Prologue**_


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

_The best thing about the future is that it comes only one day at a time.  
_ _--Abraham Lincoln _

_**About six years later...**  
_  
Connor grabbed his school bag and prepared to exit through the portrait hole when Ivy Longbottom and Zack Ellis joined him. They were all glad it was finally Friday, and were looking forward to the first weekend break after their first week back at Hogwarts. They were heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast, and then they were due in potions – their least favorite class. Professor Snape was unbearably unfair to them, and seemed to relish taking points from Connor for doing things like "breathing too loudly." It was a good thing that Connor actually had a talent for the subject, or he would probably be picked on even more.  
  
"Oh," Connor said casually to his companions as the approached the Gryffindor table. "Don't get stuck sharing a cauldron with Quentin today."  
  
"How come?" Zack asked, spotting the subject of the warning already sitting in their usual spot and scribbling furiously on some parchment. His dark brown hair was stuck up at odd angles as if he had neglected to comb it before going to breakfast.  
  
"He's going to get sick all over one of the work tables." Connor grinned.  
  
"Shouldn't we tell him?" Ivy asked, quirking her brow at the two boys.  
  
"What for?" Zack asked. "If he's gonna puke, he's gonna puke. Why make him dread it the whole time until it happens?"  
  
"Maybe he could go to Madam Pomfrey and get a potion or something," she suggested with distaste. She pulled a hairbrush from her bag and expertly gathered her thick shoulder length hair into a more manageable twist, securing it with an enormous toothy clip that somehow held it all securely to the back of her pale head.  
  
"Hey Quint," Connor greeted the ill-fated boy as they all took seats near him. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Fine," he said, looking up from the potions essay he was trying to finish before class. When he noticed his friends were all staring at him, he became suspicious and said, "Why?"  
  
"Connor says you're going to get sick in potions." Ivy said, wrinkling her nose and helping herself to some toast.  
  
"Why would I do that?" He ruffled his silver-blond hair as he looked at Connor. "I feel great!"  
  
Connor just shrugged and answered, "I don't explain 'em."  
  
"Well if you do puke, try to do it on Snape, will you?" Zack asked with a grin.  
  
"Yeah, and give him an excuse to take even more points from Gryffindor. That would be great!" Quentin said sarcastically. He turned back to his almost completed essay and scribbled a few more lines before setting down his quill and capping his ink.  
  
"Hey guys!" Rachel Weasley joined the group of second years at the table, slightly out of breath. "I can't believe I got lost again! I think I turned the wrong way at the suit of armor on the third floor."  
  
"You've been at Hogwarts a week, and you still can't find your way to the great hall?" Connor sneered at his favorite cousin.  
  
"Hey," she defended, grabbing some toast and bacon. "You've had a whole year to get to know the castle; I just got here. Give me a break!"  
  
They were interrupted from their customary arguing by the arrival of the post owls, and grinned when a large tawny one dropped a parcel that bore the label of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes landed between them on the table.  
  
"Excellent!" Rachel said, seeing that it was addressed to both her and Connor. She opened the bright yellow box and found two smaller ones inside. "Skiving Snackboxes!"  
  
"Remind me to hug Uncle Fred next time we see him. I told him that I was going to need this," Connor said, tucking his box into his schoolbag. He looked down the table and saw that several of his cousins were also tucking the familiar boxes into pockets and bags. "Just remember that McGonagall can spot these things a mile away, so be careful."  
  
"After sitting through a double History of Magic yesterday," Rachel said, "I think I'll be saving the fever fudge for that class."  
  
Zack nodded in agreement as he ate his bowl of porridge, and Quentin sighed. "My dad said that he was going to send my winter cloak to me, since it wouldn't fit in my trunk. I've been freezing in astronomy class!"  
  
At that moment, a fifth year Slytherin girl with long silvery hair and steely gray eyes approached Quentin with a package in her hands and dropped it right on top of his breakfast plate. "Dad sent this with my mail, _Leo_."  
  
"Go away Vanessa," Quentin said with a scowl.  
  
She surveyed the others sitting around her brother and said nastily, "Gladly."  
  
"_That_ is your sister?" Rachel asked in disbelief.  
  
Quentin scowled and nodded. "She's always like that, but it's worse since last year when I didn't get sorted into Slytherin. It wouldn't have been too bad if I'd gone into Ravenclaw like Mum, but I think Gryffindor as been a bitter pill for them to swallow." Everyone gave him a sympathetic look. "At least I got my cloak! Now I won't freeze to death on Monday night."  
  
"We'd better get going, or we'll be late for class," Zack said, picking up his bag, and an extra piece of toast to eat on the way.  
  
They said goodbye to Rachel and hurried down to the dungeons. Ivy kept eyeing Quentin, as if expecting him to break out in a fever at any moment, and stood well away from him in the line outside of the potions classroom. They had potions with the Hufflepuffs this year, and so the class was a large one. Connor and Rachel had a hard time believing the stories their parents had told them about Gryffindor only having about ten students per year back in their day. With the Hufflepuff second years sharing their potions class, there were thirty-two students in all; a fact that made the Potions Master very unhappy.  
  
The door to the class room opened, and they all filed in, intending to choose partners, since they noted that the room was set up for a practical lesson instead of a lecture.  
  
"Choose a partner from a house that is not your own!" Professor Snape commanded them in his gravelly voice, before they could divide themselves up.  
  
This caused a moment's confusion, but the problem about trying not to get partnered with Quentin was solved. Connor chose a seat beside one of the only Hufflepuffs he recognized, a pretty blonde with blue eyes names Jeanette Fisher. She smiled shyly at him, and he smiled back, but they didn't have a chance to speak before the professor began to give them their instructions. He set them their most difficult potion so far, but Connor wasn't worried. His father would be mortified to know that he actually sort of enjoyed Potions class, but that didn't matter. His grandmother was the best cook he knew, and he had learned under her watchful eye how to measure ingredients properly at a young age. A potions list wasn't that much different than cooking recipe, though Snape was a far cry from his loving Grandmother.  
  
Jeanette went about finely dicing the ginger root they needed, while Connor counted out exactly twenty-seven black beetle eyes. They worked in companionable silence until Snape called out.  
  
"Malfoy!"  
  
"Yes, Professor?" Quentin answered carefully. He had almost sliced his finger when the professor had startled him by calling his name. He looked up to see Snape regarding him coolly, his dark hair was pulled back onto the nape of his neck so that the silver streaks at his temples stood out in sharp relief. His eyes glittered, but no reprimands or scathing comments were issued.  
  
"You will retrieve eight pomegranates from the crate on my desk and see to it that each pair of students gets one quarter."  
  
With a sigh of relief, he stood and left his partner to work on their potions while he went to follow instructions. It was hard to tell sometimes whether or not Snape disliked him, and so Quentin was always on guard in this class. He took the deep red exotic fruit from the crate, and carefully washed them in the sink before slicing them into four equal pieces. As he traveled around the room, passing out the seed filled sections, he heard the professor issuing more instructions to the class.  
  
"Each pair of students is to take precisely fifty three unbroken seeds from their section of pomegranate and grind them into a pulp with mortar and pestle. Add the pulp to the potion only after you have added the powdered bicorn horn and brought the solution to a rolling boil."  
  
It happened so quickly, that Quentin never saw it coming. He was standing in front of the next to last pair of students, and the person standing behind him stood up and knocked into him from behind. Quentin dropped the remaining pomegranate sections into the incomplete potion in front of him, and it splashed up into his face, dripping into his mouth.  
  
Connor barely had time to utter a soft, "uh-oh" before his earlier prediction came true. Several students jumped out of the way of the mess, and Snape took twenty points from Gryffindor before clearing everything up with a wave of his wand.  
  
After class, Quentin looked slightly green, and told him he would catch up with them after he went to rinse his mouth. Ivy, Zack and Connor walked toward the Charms classroom, discussing what had happened. They were still chuckling when they passed Rachel in the hallway and Connor called out after her, "You forgot your Herbology book!"  
  
"That really kind of creeps me out," Ivy said conversationally as they turned a corner.  
  
"You'll get used to it." Connor said. "Besides, she didn't forget her book, I'm just messing with her a bit."  
  
Zack laughed and Ivy rolled her eyes. Her life hadn't been dull since meeting her classmates. Her father had told her stories of his own classmates and adventures at Hogwarts, and she was looking forward to having a few of her own. It was fun having so many Weasley's around Gryffindor Tower, and the celebrity of having a famous father that had followed Connor around for the first few months of the previous school year seemed to have virtually vanished. Now they were free to blend in with the rest of the students, and didn't attract too much attention. Most of their classmates were still unaware of Connor's precognitive talents, though she wasn't so sure about the teachers, but they hadn't run into any trouble so far.  
  
They found seats near the back of the room, and saved one for Quentin. Zack got out his wand and his Charms book, and prepared to take notes. Charms was his favorite class, and he didn't mind the double period. He also liked tiny Professor Flitwick. It was rumored that the professor was to be retiring at the end of this year, and Zack would be sorry to see him go. Ever since his first day at Hogwarts last year, Zack had been intrigued by the fact that he could make objects levitate, move, and come when he called – all with the aid of a slender piece of wood with a Unicorn hair inside. His parents were thoroughly non-magical, and had thought that his invitation to attend a school for wizards was an insane joke. It wasn't until a representative of the Muggle Relations department of the Ministry of Magic had arrived and explained things that his parents had begun to understand what it all meant. After a trip to Diagon Alley, they had agreed to a trial year at Hogwarts, and had (luckily for him, since he wasn't allowed to show them the magic he was learning) agreed to let him attend again this year, since his grades had been very good. He had met Connor and some of the Weasleys on the train his first year, and Ivy and Quentin after the sorting; they had all been fast friends since. He missed certain aspects of the Muggle world, but found that the magical one more than made up for it.  
  
Connor was idly flipping through a copy of '_Which Broomstick_?' when Quentin slid into the seat next to him, still looking a bit ill.  
  
"I hate you," he whispered to Connor as he dug out his book.  
  
Connor merely chuckled and said, "Ivy did warn you."  
  
"I'll never doubt again," he swore. "That had to be the foulest substance in the world."  
  
Just then, Professor Flitwick entered the room from his office and climbed up onto his customary stack of books to begin his lesson on _Freezing Charms_.  
  
At lunch, they were all eating thick sandwiches and discussing what they would do for their upcoming weekend. It was nearly time for them to leave for Transfiguration when Connor suddenly jumped up from his seat and sprinted for the Head Table. He jumped it in one giant hurdle, and grabbed Professor McGonagall, pulling her back from the table just as she was about to take her seat. They both stumbled and nearly fell, but were steadied by Professor Lupin, who had been entering behind McGonagall.  
  
"Mr. Potter!" the Headmistress exclaimed. "Explain yourself!"  
  
Connor released her, and lifted the long table cloth that covered the table she where she had been about to sit, revealing the remains of an Ashwinder, and four glowing red eggs in a cluster, the ground beneath them scorched from the intense heat they were giving off. In fact, the tablecloth was beginning to smolder right in front of the chair that the Headmistress always sat in. Professor Lupin immediately withdrew his wand and performed a Freezing Charm on the eggs.  
  
"I, er, smelled smoke?" Connor said lamely.  
  
"It's a good thing you did," Professor Lupin said cheerfully, "Professor McGonagall's robes would surely have caught fire if they had brushed those eggs. He bent and carefully collected them saying, "Professor Snape will undoubtedly find these useful. I believe they are highly prized potion ingredients."  
  
"Indeed," she agreed. "Fifty points to Gryffindor, Mr. Potter. Now I believe you are due in Transfiguration?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Connor answered, and walked back to his friends, not looking at anyone else, though he knew that almost everyone as staring at him. He gathered his school bag and gestured for the others to follow him without speaking.  
  
Once they were in the corridor, Rachel demanded, "What was _that_ all about?"  
  
"Ashwinder eggs under the table," he answered tersely. "I can't believe I was so stupid!"  
  
A group of Slytherins passed just then, whispering and staring at Connor as they went. Connor knew that by dinnertime, there would be one or two wild rumors floating around the castle about the incident. Rachel patted his arm sympathetically, and headed off to her own class (going the wrong way), and Ivy, Quentin and Zack walked closely together as they made their way to Transfiguration.  
  
"What's the matter Connor? You just earned us fifty points, and saved McGonagall from some nasty burns!" Ivy tried to keep a cheerful note in her voice.  
  
"And practically shouted out to everyone in the whole of Hogwarts that I knew what was going to happen before it actually did." Connor said angrily. "I jumped over a table, for Merlin's sake!  
  
"What else could you have done?" Zack asked practically. "You couldn't just let her get hurt."  
  
"I know," Connor said. It didn't make him feel any better about it though. He knew that McGonagall and Lupin, both being friends of his parents, were aware of his 'talents' and would be careful not to advertise it to the student body, but today he had done just that all by himself. "But now everyone is going to start thinking I'm a freak."  
  
"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Quentin comforted. "By dinner there will be about fifty different versions of what happened floating around. No one will know the real story unless we tell them, and we aren't going to do that."  
  
"I hope you're right," Connor said, and led the way into the Transfiguration room.  
  
They took their seats and waited for Professor Thompson to arrive. Quentin seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, and then leaned toward Connor and said, "You know, if you want, I can spread a rumor myself. You might come out looking like an idiot, but no one will suspect anything else. All it would take is a word to my sister."  
  
Connor considered this for a moment, and thought that Quentin's plan had merit. He could withstand looking stupid for a while if the alternative was that everyone would learn about his clairvoyance. "Quint," he said with a smile. "You just might be onto something there."  
  
During the afternoon break, Quentin made sure that he was separated from his friends in the courtyard. It only took a few moments before Vanessa swooped down on him and smiled her familiar '_I want something' _smile. When she finally wheedled the story out of him, she left to spread the news that Connor had planted the eggs under the Staff Table on a dare, but had gotten cold feet at the last minute and ruined the joke. With his typical Gryffindor luck, he had managed to convince the teachers that he had actually saved the Headmistress from the potentially harmful stunt of another student.  
  
They had quietly discussed it during History of Magic, while Binns droned on about Goblins. By dinnertime the story that Quentin, Zack and Ivy had devised was all over the castle. Connor found that many boys, especially Slytherins, were scornful of his inability to pull a prank that could have proved to be very entertaining. They would almost certainly be calling him some stupid name before morning, but it didn't matter. Most girls thought that he had been cruel to try and pull such a dangerous stunt in the first place, even on a dare, and glared at him as he finished dinner and headed back to the common room, trying to hold back his smile. He knew that he would have to write to his parents about it, since he knew that the professors undoubtedly would. He would have to be more careful in the future, but for now, his secret was safe.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two  
**

_ In dreams begins responsibility.  
--William Butler Yeats  
_  
The following week passed without much incident. Connor's supposed failed stunt was talked about for a day or two, but was replaced in the gossip circles by the fact that Tamara Johansen from Hufflepuff had been caught kissing Josh Hamilton Slytherin in one of the broom closets on the fourth floor while they were supposed to be on Prefect duty. Life went back to normal.  
  
Rachel had been highly amused by the fact that she had been forced to take a flying lesson with the rest of the first years, when she had spent a good portion of her childhood on various broomsticks.  
  
"It's hard to avoid when your own father makes them for a living," Zack had said with a bit of envy in his voice. Not only did Rachel's dad have his own line of broomsticks, he had also enjoyed almost ten years as a professional Quidditch player after the defeat of Voldemort. Zack himself wasn't a very good flier yet, and was itching to get in some practice so that he could participate in the pick-up games of Quidditch that many of the students played during weekends.  
  
"True," Rachel had said with a sigh. "But they still won't let me try out for the Quidditch team until next year. Jarod isn't happy about it either."  
  
Jarod was her Uncle Fred's son, who was also a first year, but preferred to hang out with the other first years his own age. His older brother Aiden was a third year, and was on the Gryffindor team as a beater.  
  
"Maybe they think you have an unfair advantage," Zack suggested by pointing out the obvious.  
  
"Well they're right, aren't they?" she answered cheekily. "I'll bet Connor's already signed up to try out on Sunday."  
  
"He has," Ivy confirmed. "I don't know how he did it, but he convinced me and Quint to try out as well. There are two Chaser spots open, so the best I can probably hope for is reserve, but it could still be fun."  
  
"Connor will get chosen for sure," Rachel said confidently. "He's really good, but don't tell him I said so. Next year, they should probably just give us Weasleys our own team. There are enough of us here at the school, even if a couple of us are in Ravenclaw. Sarah will be leaving at the end of this year, and she's not on the Ravenclaw team, anyway. Maggie and Patrick will be first years when they come next year, and I'm guessing they'll be in Gryffindor, and that means there will be eight Weasleys – nine if you count Connor. Only Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur's kids are in Ravenclaw."  
  
"There are too many of you to keep straight with out a chart," Zack complained.  
  
Ivy nodded in agreement as she checked over her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. Professor Lupin had given her extra work because her last essay on Doxies was so poor. She had left that one until the last minute, and had written the entire thing during breakfast on the day it was due. She didn't want to make that mistake again. After crossing out two lines in her second paragraph, she was satisfied with her work and got out a fresh roll of parchment to write her final draft. Quentin was especially good at Defense class, and she would have liked to have him look her essay over for her, but he and Connor had disappeared over an hour ago, and had yet to turn up.  
  
"Does anyone know where Quint and Connor are?" she asked, wondering if it was worth her time to wait for him.  
  
"They said they had some work to do in the library," Zack said. "But I think that they snuck down to the kitchens."  
  
As if her question had conjured them, the missing boys came through the portrait hole, both looking gloomy. They spotted the others at the table by the window and joined them there.  
  
"What's up?" Zack asked, seeing their expressions.  
  
"Got caught," Quentin sighed. "Detention tomorrow night with Lupin. Why he Connor couldn't have predicted that Filch would be staked out there, I don't know. That man's just unnatural; my dad says that he was here way back when _he _was in school."  
  
"Sorry," Ivy said sympathetically. "But at least it's not with Snape, which is who I had to serve mine with for a _week _when I accidentally flushed all of those dung bombs down the boys' toilet. I never want to see another rat brain for as long as I live."  
  
"_Accidentally_?" Rachel raised her eyebrow at that statement. "In the boy's toilet?"  
  
"That's my story and I'm sticking to it," Ivy said with a wink. "It was worth it to see Arnold Bulstrode covered in..."  
  
"All right!" Rachel said, holding up her hands. "Not a mental image I want in my head."  
  
"Well I'm going up to bed," Connor announced with a yawn. "I haven't been sleeping well the past few nights, and I want to get in an early night, or I'll be falling asleep in my cauldron in the morning."  
  
Everyone at the table bid him goodnight, and Ivy turned her attention to convincing Quentin to look over her essay. Connor climbed the stairs to his dormitory; one of two rooms assigned to the second year boys. He had been a bit disappointed that he hadn't been given the room his father had slept in when he went to Hogwarts, but he had eventually settled into his own room nicely. Quentin was in the drape-surrounded bed across from his, and Zack's bed was next to him. The fourth boy in their room was Andrew Tillman, who was friends with the other second year boys, as they called them. Right now, the room was empty, and so he changed into his pyjamas and pulled the drapes around his bed to block out the light as he lay down. He had been waking up in the middle of the night for the past couple of weeks with strange dreams, almost since his first night back at Hogwarts, in fact. He kept telling himself that it was because he was anxious about Quidditch try-outs coming up in just a couple of days, though he wasn't sure he believed it. He willed himself to relax, and closed his eyes. Before he could even resort to counting sheep, he was asleep.  
  
_It was that strange dream again. He was in a long corridor, and there was a room at the end of it that was lit with a blue light. He walked until he came to it, and when he stepped inside, he barely had time to notice that the room was round when the torches that had been the source of the light extinguished themselves. The darkness was absolute, except for the lines of light leaking through the cracks in the many doors that lined the walls of the strange round room. The walls began to spin, making the lines around the doors blur and they went fast enough to make him feel queasy. He fumbled in his robes for his wand, and when he found it, the walls had slowed to a stop. He whispered 'Lumos,' relieved by the light the tip of his wand produced, and studied the many doors around him. How would he find his way back again? Which door should he choose? He had the undeniable feeling that he was running out of time, and needed to act quickly. He turned in a circle to see the rest of the room, and found that Quint, Ivy, Rachel and Zack were all in the strange room with him, looking excited and apprehensive.  
  
"What do we do now?" Zack asked him as the torches sprang to life again and washed them all with blue light.  
  
"I think we should..."  
  
_"Wake UP!"  
  
Connor blearily opened his eyes to find Quentin bending over him.  
  
"What's going on?" he asked sleepily, the details of the dream already fading away.  
  
"It's time to wake up," Quint repeated. "You're not going to have time for breakfast if you don't start moving now. Everyone else has gone."  
  
"Breakfast?" Connor asked, bewildered. "I just barely got to sleep!"  
  
Quentin chuckled and said, "It might seem that way, but you were snoring pretty hard all night long. It's past seven. Are you going to get up, of should I just meet you in Potions?"  
  
"I'm getting up," he decided, throwing his covers aside. "Give me two minutes."  
  
He used the washbasin in the corner of the room to splash cool water over his face and head, and quickly dried and pushed a comb through his unmanageable hair. With in minutes, he and Quentin were hurrying down to the Great Hall to grab a quick bite to eat before rushing off to Potions class. They were discussing the upcoming Quidditch trials, and who else from their house would be trying out for the two available starting spots on the Gryffindor team. He didn't even think twice when he grabbed Quentin's arm and pulled him to the opposite side of the hall without breaking stride or missing a beat in what he was saying. Quentin turned around in time to see Peeves hovering in a dark alcove, and an enormous water balloon bursting onto the floor where the two had just been walking. With a shake of his head, he kept up with his friend, glad that a slight disaster had been avoided, and amazed that Connor hadn't even seemed aware of what he had done. The incident with the Ashwinder eggs had been successfully smoothed over, but it was this sort of careless inattention that was eventually going to set people's minds to work on how he managed to avoid minor pitfalls and major troubles all the time. Quentin made a mental note to discuss it with Connor and the others later.  
  
The rest of the day was relatively boring. Potions and Charms were typical; though Zack had been excited to be able to produce the bluebell flames that Flitwick told him could be kept in a jar and used for warmth or faint light. Connor was pleased that he was among the few in Transfiguration class to succeed in turning his beetles into shiny black coat buttons. He decided that Potions and Transfiguration were his best subjects, but he might enjoy the first one more if Snape wasn't so disagreeable. During History of Magic, Connor's quill slipped through slack fingers and fluttered to the floor, shortly before his head hit the desk as he slipped into a sleep brought on by Binns's droning voice. Everyone had broken into quiet laughter when Connor had shouted, "ouch!" when his forehead made sharp contact with his desktop, but Binns never even paused in his lecture, and soon they all settled into their usual stupor until the bell rang.  
  
Later in the common room, they all dumped their books back in their dormitories and headed down to the Great Hall.  
  
"I wonder what's for dinner," Rachel said to no one in particular. "I'm starved!"  
  
"Shepherd's Pie," Connor answered immediately.  
  
"You're doing it again," Quentin observed, seizing his opportunity to broach the subject.  
  
"Doing what?" Connor asked with a furrowed brow.  
  
"You're telling us about stuff you shouldn't know."  
  
"So?" Connor raised a brow at his friend. "It's just the five of us."  
  
"Yes," Quentin agreed. "But you do it without even thinking about it. It's become second nature to you, and if you're not careful, people are going to start to notice there's something different about you, whether you jump over the staff table or not."  
  
"I've noticed that, too," Ivy added. "It's like you don't even know you're doing it."  
  
"He's always been like that," Rachel said in his defense, but remembering her parents admonition just before leaving for Hogwarts not to draw attention to Connor's 'gift'.  
  
"I can't help it," Connor said, wondering how often he actually did act on his premonitions without even realizing it. "It is just second nature."  
  
"You'll just have to try to pay more attention is all," Rachel said. "And we'll help by pointing it out when you do stuff without really thinking about it."  
  
They had dinner, and Connor was quiet as he ate, and let the conversations around the Great Hall flow over him. If he had been acting strangely enough to draw his friends' attention without realizing it, he would have to figure out a way to reign in his talents. And if his friends got the creeps over mundane predictions like what they were having for dinner, what would they say if he told them that he thought his recent dreams were trying to tell him something? He'd had the same dream, or variations of it, every night for the past couple of weeks now, and was beginning to have trouble continuing to dismiss it as Quidditch try-out jitters.  
  
He had just finished eating a fruit tart, when Quentin nudged him and said, "We're due at detention in ten minutes; we should get going."  
  
They said good-bye to the others, and walked out. Vanessa smirked at them as they passed, and Quentin pulled a face at her. Sometimes he wondered how it was that they were both from the same family.  
  
"You know," Connor complained as the climbed a flight of stairs. "It just doesn't seem fair that Uncle... I mean Professor Lupin should give us detention for something as dumb as trying to nick food from the kitchens, when he and my grandfather used to roam all over the school under an invisibility cloak in their day."  
  
"They did?" Quentin asked curiously. His own father was an only child, and his Grandfather, by all accounts had been a cold and hard man who had been killed by Lord Voldemort more than ten years before Quentin had even been born. His own father had spent a year in Azkaban during the war, before being released and working against Voldemort after that. He knew, from the stories that adults tell and don't think kids listen to, that his father and Connor's father had intensely disliked each other from the moment they had laid eyes on each other. They shared an uneasy acquaintanceship all of these years later, but would probably never be friends by any stretch of the imagination.  
  
Connor nodded, and added, "So did my father and Rachel's parents for that matter."  
  
"Is Professor Lupin really your uncle?" Quentin asked, impressed.  
  
"No," he shrugged. "Just a close family friend."  
  
"Any chance that your dad gave you that invisibility cloak?" Quentin grinned conspiratorially.  
  
"No," Connor sighed. "And believe me, I asked."  
  
They turned into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and found Professor Lupin sitting at his desk, reading student essays. He looked up from a scroll of parchment and glanced at his watch before standing and saying, "Right on time, boys." His voice was pleasant and he didn't look annoyed or angry, and Connor thought that they just might get off lightly tonight. "As your head of house, it's my responsibility to make you see the error of your ways. Sneaking out after your curfew is one thing, but getting caught is another." He sighed dramatically in feigned disappointment and continued. "Now I'm supposed to give you some sort of punishment to deter you from breaking the rules again."  
  
Connor fought not to grin. His 'Uncle' was apparently in a good mood, judging by his teasing tone, and so he relaxed a little and waited to find out what sort of task he and Quentin would have to complete as punishment for getting caught. Twenty minutes later, he was not quite as comfortable, as he cleaned the slimy green film from the glass of a Grindylow tank. If this was the type of assignment kids got when the professor was in a good mood, he prayed he never had to find out first hand what happened when he was in a foul one. Still, things could have been worse; Quentin was busy across the room, cleaning Doxy droppings from the bottom of a cage, while it's inhabitants buzzed angrily at him. They had been told that they could leave once all of the creature enclosures had been properly cleaned. They could use magic for some of it, but others had to be done by hand. There appeared to be about twenty cages and tanks in all. Professor Lupin watched them with a crooked smile on his face for a while, but then went back to grading homework, chuckling when he heard his 'nephew' mutter, "Ugh! Gross!"  
  
Three hours later, Quentin finished with the Streelers and went to help Connor finish up with the Jarvey cage. The Professor had apparently put a silencing charm on the animal, as it was chattering its mouth at them angrily, but no profanity was issuing forth at them. At last, they were done, and Lupin smiled at them. "Excellent job, boys. I think that you've learned your lesson. Quentin, you're free to go back to the Gryffindor tower. I'd like a word with Connor in private."  
  
Quentin looked at his friend uncertainly for a moment before turning to go, and left them alone. Professor Lupin leaned back against his desk in front of Connor and studied him for a few moments before speaking. "How has your first couple of weeks back been?"  
  
"They've been all right," he answered. He wasn't sure if he was having a conversation with his Uncle or with his Professor, and was unsure how formal he should be in his answers.  
  
"I've been hearing some things about you around the school regarding the incident with the Ashwinder," he said quietly. "Some of the students have been saying that you planted them there on a dare, and then realized what a stupid idea it was at the last second."  
  
Connor relaxed again, and smiled. "Good," he said, earning a raised eyebrow. "My friends and I actually started that rumor ourselves to cover up that I knew what was going to happen before it did."  
  
Lupin nodded in acceptance and said, "I'd hoped it was something like that. It's just not like you to pull such a careless prank; covering up with a relatively harmless story a pretty clever idea."  
  
"It was Quint's idea," Connor admitted  
  
"Be that as it may," Lupin said seriously. "You want to be as careful with making up stories to cover up the truth about your abilities as you do about your abilities themselves. You don't people who don't know you to believe that you're the type to take stupid dares and behave recklessly."  
  
Connor nodded at this chastisement. "I know."  
  
Changing the subject to a lighter note, Lupin put an arm around Connor as he steered him out of the classroom and down the corridor that led toward Gryffindor Tower. "So do I even need to ask if you're trying out for the house Quidditch team?" he asked affectionately.  
  
"Of course! Quint and Ivy are going to try out as well," he answered, comfortable in the knowledge that he was now speaking to his Uncle. "It'd be really cool if we all got on the team, even if we can only make reserve."  
  
"You're spending a lot of time with Quentin Malfoy," Lupin observed without any judgment evident in his voice.  
  
"He one of my best mates." Connor said. "Have you been talking to Dad again?"  
  
Lupin chuckled. "No. But I did tell him that I would keep and eye on you. Old habits die hard, and you father has made it a habit to mistrust the name of Malfoy."  
  
Connor shrugged. What did his dad's old conflicts have to do with him and Quentin? "Quint's okay," he said. "And from the way he talks, his dad is all right, too. Not like Vanessa."  
  
"Has she been giving you a hard time?" Again there was no trace of emotion in his voice.  
  
"Not really," he answered. "She bullies Quint a bit, I suppose, and us if we're around him when she does. I think it's just a big sister, little brother thing - it's nothing we can't handle."  
  
"Well just be careful," Lupin said as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "I don't want to have you in detention again."  
  
"Thanks Uncle... I mean Professor," Connor flushed at the slip.  
  
Lupin simply smiled and ruffled his hair before bidding him goodnight and leaving him alone.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter 3**

_My father didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.  
-Clarence Budinton Kelland  
_  
Sunday morning was sunny and cool, and the Gryffindor table was the loudest in the Great Hall at breakfast time. All the talk seemed to be focused on the Quidditch tryouts scheduled for later that morning, and everyone seemed excited about it. There were two open spots for Chasers, and the team's captain, Mariah Rexhall would be leaving at the end of the year, as would one of the current Beaters. There were no reserve players at the moment, and Mariah wanted each player on the team this year to have a reserve counterpart; she did not want to have to play a man short again as had happened last year when one of their Chasers had been badly injured and unable to play. That meant that in addition to the two Chaser spots that were open, seven other hopefuls had a chance of making the reserve team. An added bonus to having fourteen players at each practice was that they could play as two teams against each other, and Gryffindor would benefit, no matter who won. This news had brought out a lot of Gryffindors to try out, and even more to cheer on those who were trying out. It looked like it was going to be a long day, and Connor was looking forward to it, as he hadn't been on a broomstick for weeks.  
  
"Do you guys want to go down to the pitch early to get in a little extra flying time?" he asked the others who were gathered around.  
  
"I do," Ivy said immediately. "I'm sure I'm a bit rusty. My dad doesn't like to fly, and Mum rarely has time, but they don't want me going up on my broom alone."  
  
"I'm game," Quentin said with a nod. He was feeling more nervous than he had expected to. His father had sent him an owl telling him he'd be fine, and that he couldn't go wrong with a father who was a great flier, and a sister that scored more than any of the other Chasers on the Slytherin team. Somehow those words didn't comfort him much now that he'd had time to think it over; what if he didn't make the team at all, even as a reserve?"  
  
"Good luck, _Leo_," came Vanessa's taunting voice from behind him. He turned to see his sister smiling evilly down at him, with a smirk on her face. "I hope you make the team. Then everyone in the school will be able to see who the _better_ Malfoy is."  
  
"We already _know_ who the better Malfoy is," Zack said with a sneer, coming to Quentin's defense.  
  
"You wouldn't know a decent Quidditch player if one bit you in the.... Oh! Hello Professor Lupin," Vanessa's voice had changed from venom to mild in an instant.  
  
"Miss Malfoy," he greeted her casually.  
  
Vanessa spared one last angry glare for the Gryffindors before departing with her head held high. Lupin, feeling that his job was done, also departed with a wink at the group.  
  
"Don't listen to her," Ivy said, seeing Zack's unhappy expression.  
  
"She's right," he said with a disgusted sigh. "I can't even stay on a broom for five minutes without falling off."  
  
"You just need practice," Quentin told him firmly. He was touched that Zack had braved his sister's considerable wrath to defend him. Not many of the Gryffindors had been eager to befriend the son of an ex-convict and former Slytherin, and he was grateful for every one of his Gryffindor friends. Zack had not listened to some of the other kids' stories about the type of man his father had once been, and had introduced himself right away.  
  
"I think I need more than that," Zack said ruefully.  
  
"Like a healthy dose of self-esteem?" Ivy chided. "You should come down to the pitch with us before try-outs and have a go on one of the school brooms."  
  
"Yeah," Connor agreed. "If we make the team, maybe we can try to get in a little flying time before practices, and you'll improve in no time."  
  
"Even if we don't make the team, we can try to get out on weekends," Quentin said.  
  
"This is so unfair," Rachel growled.  
  
"Rachel," Connor said impatiently. "Just because first years aren't allow their own brooms, doesn't mean they're not allowed to fly at all. Go ask Lupin or McGonagall if you can borrow a school broom and come with us!"  
  
Rachel grinned, and hopped up from the table, heading to the Staff Table where both professors were having breakfast. Jarod Weasley sat down in the place she had just vacated and picked up a piece of discarded bacon. Biting into it, he said to Connor, "That..._cousin_ of ours scored a 105% on her last Charms test."  
  
"Well look at her Mum!" Connor said with laugh at the disgust in the other boy's tone. "She's bound to be brilliant, isn't she?"  
  
"I suppose," Jarod sulked. "My dad wanted me to tell you that he's sending a Halloween box for all of us, but that one of the older kids will have to pick it up in Hogsmeade. He says it's probably best if McGonagall and Lupin don't see it."  
  
"Excellent!" Connor grinned. "Fireworks?"  
  
"That's my guess. Him and Uncle George were working on something new just before school started, but they weren't saying what. I thought Mum was going to have a fit the third time the basement exploded, though." Jarod smiled at the memory, then vacated Rachel's seat as she returned looking triumphant. "They said yes!" she said happily.  
  
After breakfast, the five of them walked out to the Quidditch pitch. Connor had the best broom in the world, in his opinion. It was one of his father and Uncle Ron's own creations, made especially for him, a gift to him when he had been accepted to Hogwarts. No kid, outside of the Potter or Weasley family owned a broom like it, because there _wasn't _another one like it. His dad and uncle's specialty was making custom brooms for professionals, built to fit each individual and react to individual riding styles and postures. Of course he hadn't been allowed to bring it to Hogwarts as a first year, but he had spent the better part of the two weeks before term started on it, and his summer holidays after. Today would actually be the first time he would ride this broomstick at Hogwarts, and he was looking forward to it. He walked with it slung over his shoulder, running his fingers over the gold lettering that spelled out his initials in the handle: "CJP."  
  
Quentin eyed the broomstick over Connor's broom with a twinge of jealousy. Not because his friend's broom was any faster or newer than his own, but because it was _special_. His father and uncle (who owned one of the most popular broom manufacturers in all of Britain) had actually designed and built that broom specifically for him; who wouldn't love that? Still, his father, not wanting to be too far outdone by a Potter or a Weasley, had bought both of his children a _Wind Blazer 5000_, the best brooms on the market _not_ made by the men in question. Aiden Weasley was a Beater for the Gryffindor team, and his broom was also custom-made, so if Quentin and Connor made the team, they would have three of the best brooms in the school on their side. He grinned widely in this knowledge and felt some of his nerves melt away.  
  
Ivy had her own broom, which was quite good, if not as good as Connor or Quentin's. She had saved her pocket money for a whole year, and did odd jobs around her parent's greenhouses, in order to buy it over the summer holidays. Her dad had made the deal with her that he would match the amount of whatever she earned toward the purchase of a new broom, even though he worried himself to death every time he watched her fly. She had been beside herself with delight the day he took her to Quality Quidditch supplies in Diagon Alley and helped her to purchase her brand new _Sirius Elite_, which had only been on the market for a few weeks when she bought it. She had wondered at the time if Connor would have been amused by the fact that she had worked so hard for one of the models his own father had developed and helped build. She had only had a few days on it before she had been forced to pack it away and come to school, and she couldn't wait to get on it again, whether she made the team or not.  
  
They stopped at the broom shed that housed the school brooms, and checked out two Cleansweeps, before heading for the Quidditch pitch. Ivy was the first one up in the air, and let out a whoop of joy and she circled the nearest set of scoring hoops. Quentin mounted his own broom with a grin and took off after Ivy, doing a couple of loops in the air just for the sheer fun of it. Connor was about to mount his own broom, but Rachel stopped him.  
  
"Go on, Connor!" she wheedled. "Let me take your broom up. You'll get to ride it all day, and I won't get a chance to ride a decent broom again until Christmas!"  
  
Connor sighed as she gave him her most pathetic look, and swapped brooms with her in defeat. Zack grinned at him, and called him a pushover.  
  
"She's right though," Connor said. "This is pretty much her last chance to ride a good broom for a couple of months. Bring your broom out onto the pitch, and I'll see if we can figure out why you keep falling off."  
  
For the next hour or so, Connor worked with Zack, and the others also made suggestions on how to improve his skill. They discovered that for the most part, his problem was balance, and worked to correct it.  
  
"Your problem is that you're trying to sit on a broomstick handle," Connor told him. "That's not all there is to it. Brooms have built it charms for things like speed, maneuverability, stopping, and stuff like that. Now that I've watched you a bit, I think you're having trouble with the cushioning charm, and you're not centering right."  
  
"So how do I fix that?" Zack asked. He really wanted to learn this, and he figured that if Connor's father built the things for a living, Connor just might have an idea what he was talking about.  
  
The rest of the Gryffindors could be seen in the distance, making their way toward the pitch for the try-outs, and so Connor said, "Let me think about it; we'll figure something out."  
  
Zack and Rachel returned their brooms to the broom shed, and joined their housemates in the stands, waiting to cheer on their friends. Mariah led her team out onto the pitch and consulted her clipboard before calling out the names of two of the hopefuls for the Chaser position. It looked like there were eight people in all trying out for that particular spot, and so they played in ten minute increments, focusing on passing the Quaffle back and forth to each other, while the Beaters worked to hit Bludgers at their own team, to see who was best at avoiding them. Each of the eight got to go up in pairs, and as luck would have it, Quentin and Connor got to try out together. Ivy, Rachel and Zack, along with most of the Weasleys, all cheered them on, and the spectators could tell that the boys had a good rhythm going as they smoothly passed the Quaffle between themselves and the third Chaser, a fourth year girl named Amanda Barton. A Bludger grazed Connor in the last few seconds of play, knocking the Quaffle from his hands, but he caught it again after a slight bobble, and Mariah blew her whistle.  
  
Ivy was next to try out, along with a third year named Carolyn Scott. This round of play didn't go as smoothly, and though it was obvious that Ivy was a good flyer, she was having trouble catching the Quaffle when it was passed to her. By the end of the ten-minute session, Ivy wore a look of frustrated disappointment, and knew that she had done poorly. As the rest of the Gryffindor team touched down, Mariah approached her.  
  
"Look," Mariah told her quietly. "I can see that you're good on a broom. Have you thought of trying out for reserve Beater?"  
  
Ivy thought about it for a moment and then shrugged, "I'll give it a try."  
  
The hopeful Chasers soon returned to the air, taking turns at trying to get past the Keeper. Quentin scored the most goals successfully of the group, but Connor and two others weren't far behind. Mariah asked the Chasers to leave the pitch, explaining that the results would be posted on the Common Room notice board in the next couple of days.  
  
Once the Chaser try-outs were over, it was time for the Beaters to take the pitch. Mariah and the Gryffindor Seeker, Whitney Glendale, would be watching the proceedings carefully from a spectator's viewpoint, so that they could judge who the best candidates were. Ivy followed the others out and mounted her broom again, figuring that the worst that could happen would be that she didn't make the reserve for this position either. She was to be in the first pair to try out, and so made sure that her hair was pulled tightly back from her face, and wrapped the bat's strap around her wrist. She listened to the instructions that Aiden Weasley gave her, and nodded. All she needed to do was chase the Bludgers as they zoomed around, and keep them from the Chasers that would be traveling up and down the pitch. Aiden, and Jeremy Ogden (the other Gryffindor Beater) joined Amanda Barton to act as Chasers, so that the practice would simulate a real match as much as possible. Because there were only half as many players on the field, the Bludgers would undoubtedly be more aggressive, so those acting as Beaters would have plenty of opportunities to show their skill. Everyone flying over the pitch carried a Beater's bat, incase those trying out were unequal to the task of blocking Bludgers threatening the 'Chasers.'  
  
Ivy's last thought before the Bludgers were released was, _"If Dad knew I was trying out for a Beater's position, he'd probably confiscate my broom!"  
_  
Connor and Quentin had gone to sit with Rachel and Zack in the stands to support Ivy in her try-outs.  
  
"How do you think she'll do?" Quentin asked, sounding a bit nervous. "Those things _are_ made of iron."

"She should do all right," Connor said. "Even if she's not really strong, she should be able to keep from getting hurt."  
  
Zack looked up at Ivy, and thought that she might actually do better than 'all right'. She might have a bit of a round face, but she was far from being fat or lazy; and she had pretty muscular legs, as well. Not that he'd looked the time he'd seen her in Muggle clothing on the train to Hogwarts, of course. Connor and Quentin had been really good in their try- outs, and Zack thought they would most likely get the starting Chaser positions out of all of the others. It would be nice for Ivy to make the team as well, even if it was only as a reserve.  
  
They all looked out at the players as the Bludgers were released, and the acting Chasers sped up and down the field. Connor was surprised and impressed as he saw Ivy dive in front of a Bludger and knock it hard in the opposite direction. He cheered with the others as she made hit after hit, making the other Beater seem as though they weren't even trying. She didn't seem to have a problem hitting the large iron balls well away from the other 'players' during her ten minutes over the pitch. By the time Mariah blew her whistle, Ivy was exhilarated and pink cheeked. She flew to the ground and grinned happily as Quentin and Zack hugged her and Conner smiled and said, "I'm impressed! If it were up to me, I'd kick one of the other Beaters back to the reserves and give you his spot!"  
  
Rachel put a friendly arm around her and agreed whole-heartedly with her cousin, "You'll get one of the reserve spots for sure!"  
  
Her hand was still stinging, and she knew her arm would ache later from the reverberation of the bat hitting the Bludger, but she knew that she had done a good job. The group went back to the stand to watch the rest of try- outs, and then traveled back up to the castle for lunch.  
  
"How come they didn't have seeker try outs today?" Zack asked as they sat in their usual spots.  
  
"The reserve seeker will be chosen at the next regular practice," Connor said around a mouthful of bread. "They didn't want to release the Snitch today, because of the ten-minute increments for the other positions. They want to see how they fly with the whole team in a regular playing situation."  
  
"How come you didn't want to try out for Seeker, Con?" Quentin asked.  
  
"Probably for the same reason as you," he answered. "My dad played that position, and everyone would be comparing me to him."  
  
"Yeah." Quentin agreed, and then added mentally, _'As much as I love my dad, I don't want to be constantly compared to him.'  
_  
After dinner, Connor stretched and groaned. "Well come on," he said tiredly. "We need to get back to the Common Room to study. Professor Thompson is going to spring a test on us tomorrow to see if we can change the buttons from last lesson back into beetles."  
  
With a collective groan, his friends followed him back to Gryffindor Tower.


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter 4**  
  
_Similarities create friendships while differences hold them together. -Unknown  
_  
To Quentin and Connor's delight, they learned on Tuesday that they had won the starting Chaser positions for the house team. Ivy was elated, as well, that she had been made a reserve Beater. They would all have practice together two or three times a week until the week before their first match, and then practice would take place every evening that they could possibly book the pitch. They planned to try to get out to the pitch an hour early whenever possible so that Zack could have a chance to improve his flying skills, and Rachel hoped to be able to convince Professors Lupin and McGonagall to allow her to go out with them, as well.  
  
On Wednesday they had their first real practice, and came back to the Common Room that evening full of smiles and enthusiastic chatter. Thursday morning's morning mail brought a large Eagle Owl with a gift for Quentin. His father had sent him a pair of professional Chaser's gloves, each with his name, and the Gryffindor lion stitched onto the backs in gold. An impressed, "Wow!" was the most common comment made when others at the table saw them. When Vanessa also spotted them, she came to the table and sneered at him, "Dad must be going soft in the head, _Leo_."  
  
"Why does she always call you that?" Zack asked, shooting her a dirty look, when she returned to her place at the Slytherin table.  
  
"My family has been in Slytherin for hundreds of years," Quentin explained, not sparing his sister a second look. "She's upset that I've been the first to break with family tradition and get sorted into Gryffindor – the lion."  
  
"How does your dad feel about it?" Ivy asked curiously.  
  
"Well he seemed a little disappointed in his letters at first," Quentin said thoughtfully, tugging the gloves onto his hands. "But judging from these, I'd say he's gotten over it!"  
  
On Friday morning, Connor was a bit bleary-eyed at breakfast, and cursed the dream that kept recurring when he closed his eyes to sleep at night. It seemed that he was having the same dream in one form or another at least three nights a week, and always woke feeling as if he'd never gone to sleep in the first place. He might have worried that the dreams were trying to tell him something, but as far as he could remember from them, nothing ever really happened in them, aside from the walls spinning. _'Maybe I'll borrow Aiden or Victoria's copy of the Dream Oracle,'_ he thought to himself. _'They're both in third year.' _Then he remembered that Aiden wasn't taking Divination, and Victoria (his Uncle Charlie's daughter) had sworn never to let him borrow another book after he had destroyed her copy of '_Mr. Smitty's Adventures in Muggle Land'_ when she'd been seven. That girl had an unbelievable memory, and had kept that oath for the past six years. He would have to check one out of the school library if he really wanted to know what the dream meant, if anything.  
  
"No offense," Ivy said to him from across the table, "But you don't look so good."  
  
"None taken," he mumbled. "I feel like I could have slept another eight hours."  
  
"It's no wonder, with the way you were thrashing around in your sleep," Zack said, reaching for the butter dish.  
  
"Not to mention the fact that you've been talking in your sleep almost constantly since the start of term." Quentin added casually, checking his potions homework over for errors. "That is, when you're not snoring loud enough to wake the dead."  
  
Ivy giggled at this, but Connor was stunned. "I talk in my sleep?"  
  
"All the time," Zack shrugged.  
  
"What do I say?" he asked. Maybe knowing what he said while he was asleep would help solve the mystery of why he kept having the same dream.  
  
"I dunno," Zack said as he spooned up porridge. "Mostly mumbling, or stuff that doesn't make sense."  
  
"Last night you were practically yelling, 'which door? Which door?' for a minute, then you just turned over and started snoring," Quentin supplied. "I was so tired, I just threw a pillow at you and went back to sleep."  
  
For a moment, the part of his dream with the many doors in the round room swam to the forefront of Connor's memory, and he shivered. Maybe he _would_ go find that book in the library after classes today.  
  
Later that night, after Quidditch practice and homework, Connor sat on his bed with the drapes drawn around it, with a copy of '_The Dream Oracle'_ propped up on his raised knees, reading by wandlight.

_ "To dream that you are entering through a door signifies fresh opportunities that will be presented to you. You are entering into a new stage in your life and moving from one level of consciousness to another. A door that opens to the outside signifies your need to be more accessible to others, whereas a door that opens into the inside signifies your desire for inner exploration and self-discovery. _

_ To see doors opened in your dream, symbolizes your receptiveness and willingness to accept new ideas. To see a light behind the door suggests that you are moving toward greater enlightenment/spirituality. To dream that the door is locked, signifies opportunities that are denied and not available to you or that you have missed out on. To be outside of a locked door, suggests that you are having some anti-social tendencies. To be inside the locked door, then it represents harsh lessons that need to be learned. _

_ To dream that you are locking doors, suggests that you are closing yourself off from others; hesitant in letting others in and revealing your feelings. It can be indicative of some fear and low self-worth."  
_

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" Connor asked himself irritably. Nothing in what he'd just read really applied to the situation in which he found himself in his dreams. He entered a door to get to the round room, but then he was presented with several others. He had no idea if the doors in his dream were locked or not, and though he knew that there was light behind the doors, he thought that the book meant that the light needed to beyond an _open_ door.

With a sigh, he set the book aside and decided to give it a rest for the night. He wasn't sure he believed in dream interpretation, anyway. His father certainly avoided talking about any sort of divination, though it was understandable in his case. Having a prophecy made about you before you were even born had to be disconcerting, especially if it predicted the defeat of a Dark Lord. Connor knew the whole story, of course, and he also knew that both of his parents had been really distressed when his own precognitive abilities had emerged. If the truth were to be told, Connor sometimes thought his life would be easier if he was a seer, and only had to worry about the odd prophecy every once in a while, instead of dealing with making dozens of small predictions a day.

Really, what use was it, to know ahead of time what was being served for dinner or that Professor Thompson was going to give them a surprise test? At least then he wouldn't have to be careful about what he was saying and doing at all times so that no one found out about it. That had always been rule number one with his Mum and Dad, 'Never flaunt your abilities, or people may try to take advantage of you." The memory of what his Mum had done to Mundungus Fletcher when he had taken him to the Annual Abergavenny Owl Race when he had been eight years old still stood out clearly in his mind. Old Dung had been trying to get him to discern which owl would be the winner, when his parents had Apparated within inches of them and given the older wizard a piece of their minds. His Dad had been angry, but it was nothing compared to what his Mum had been. She had put him in a full body bind, and then had hexed him so badly, that he hadn't been able to talk for a week; all the noise he had been able to make was the braying of a donkey.

Still chuckling at that memory, Connor shoved the book beneath his pillow. He didn't want his friends to know that he was having recurring dreams, and Quentin and Zack would surely want to know why he was reading a Divination textbook if they found out. He settled down beneath his covers, and with a yawn, fell asleep.

_"Which door?" he asked, more to himself that to his companions, who were all looking around them in bewilderment. "Which door will take us to her?" _

_ "It's your vision, mate," Quentin said, sounding nervous, and holding his wand at the ready._

_ "Look, there are five of us," Rachel said logically. "We should each just pick a door and see what's on the other side. There are only a dozen, it shouldn't take long to find the one that Connor told us about, assuming that one of these doors leads directly into that room."_

_ "And if none of them does?" Zack asked, tentatively approaching a door, but not attempting to open it, as there was no handle._

_ "Lets worry about that if we come to that problem," Connor said impatiently. "We don't have much time!"  
  
He strode forward and placed his hand on the door directly in front of him, intending to push it open...  
_  
Connor woke with a start as his body landed with a _whump_ on the small carpet beside his bed, the sound of his startled shout still issuing from his throat.  
  
"What are you on about, Potter?" came the irritated voice of Andrew Tillman through the darkness of the dormitory.  
  
"Sorry," Connor whispered in reply, as he pushed himself off of the ground. "Nightmare."  
  
"_You're_ the nightmare," Andrew shot back nastily. "I swear, with all the noise you make, it would be quieter in the Owlery."  
  
"Then why don't you go sleep there?" came Quentin's equally nasty voice from his bed. He had never liked Andrew, who often made snide comments about the Malfoy family, and he wasn't about to stand for the little berk mouthing off to his best friend.  
  
"All of you shut _up_!" Zack said tiredly. "It's three in the morning!"  
  
"Sorry," Connor said again. He climbed back into his four-poster and lay awake for a while, pondering this new version of his regular dream. Who was the '_her_' that he had talked about this time? Why was he trying to find anyone in that strange place? Was it really a place at all, or just symbolic of something else in his subconscious? After so many dreams over the past two months, he didn't believe that there wasn't _some_ meaning to all of it, whether it was a form of divination or not. These short glimpses of the same scene were frustrating, and Connor had no idea how to either make the dream progress further or else block them out entirely. Eventually he fell back to sleep, and wasn't disturbed by anything else until the morning sun shone through the window of the room to wake him.  
  
The next morning after breakfast, Andrew Tillman was sitting in the Common Room with the _other_ second years, talking loudly about his misfortune at having to share a room with Connor, Zack and Quentin. "I can't believe that I have to share a room with them! One snores and shouts in his sleep, one has a father who was a convict, for Merlin's sake, and the third one didn't even know he was a wizard until he got the letter. I've a mind to ask Professor Lupin to move me to a room with the rest of you, even if it does mean that there would be five of us in a room."  
  
Quentin rolled his eyes as he waited for Ivy to make the next move in the game of chess they had set up. Zack was sprawled on the floor beside their table flipping through his chocolate Frog cards, chuckling when he ran across one for Harry Potter, and chucking it over to Connor, who was writing a letter by the window, and listening idly to Andrew's tirade. He looked at the card and snorted before tossing it back, and continued with his letter.  
  
"Only one problem with that, Tillman," one of the boys in his group said.  
  
"What's that?" Andrew asked curiously.  
  
"We don't want you in _our _dorm, either," he replied.  
  
Andrew looked shocked and affronted when the other boys nodded in agreement. "But, but..."  
  
"Look, I don't know what your problem is lately, but you never have a nice word to say about anyone," the other boy, Tim, continued, "It makes us all wonder what you say about _us_ when we're not around. I don't know about Malfoy and Ellis, and I don't really care, but Potter's dad pretty much saved the world, so I think that if he wants to snore, shout or dance the tango in his sleep, he's entitled."  
  
Andrew shot to his feet as Connor laughed outright, and said, "Fine! I have plenty of other friends, I don't need you!" He stormed out of the portrait hole, leaving the other boys alone.  
  
"Wow," Zack said quietly to Ivy, Quentin and Connor. "Looks like we aren't the only ones sick of his mouth."  
  
"I feel bad," Tim said to his friends. "But I couldn't take it any more. He was all right last year, but ever since he got back from summer holidays, he's been a huge prat."  
  
"It had to be done," one of the other boys said consolingly. "He's been out of line for a while now."  
  
"They're right," Ivy said quietly, finally moving one of her pieces on the board. "He insulted me the other day when I tried to help him with his mandrake in Herbology. Something's crawled up his shorts, and he's taking it out on everyone else.'  
  
"You know," Quentin observed. "We should probably keep an eye on him now; there's no telling how nasty he'll get after this."  
  
"Yeah," Connor agreed, scratching his nose with his quill and getting ink on his cheek. "At least be sure to lock up your stuff and check your bed before getting in. He strikes me as the type to resort to mean pranks to get back at someone." 


	6. Chapter five

**Chapter 5**  
  
_ Never Explain - your Friends do not need it, and your Enemies will not  
believe you anyway. – Elbert Hubbard_  
  
With the close of October fast approaching, Connor, Quentin and Ivy were spending more and more time out on the Quidditch pitch, training for their first match. The Slytherin team was booking the pitch so often, that the Gryffindors were often forced to appeal to their head of house for equal time. Their first match would be on November second, and both teams were determined to win. The days were growing colder, and the weather more turbulent.  
  
On Halloween, the Gryffindor team ended up practicing in the pouring rain, and Connor's teeth were chattering as he followed Quentin and Ivy through the portrait hole.  
  
"There isn't enough hot water in the world to make me properly warm right now," Ivy said with a shiver.  
  
"I'm going to stand under the shower until my skin prunes," Connor said as they squelched their way to the stairs that led to the dorms.  
  
"Your skin is already pruny," Quentin pointed out.  
  
"Then I'll stand there until it _un_-prunes," he shrugged.  
  
"I'll meet you guys down here before the feast," Ivy said, and dripped her way up the stairs that led to the girl's dormitory.  
  
The boys stopped off in their room, and glanced over at the drawn drapes of Andrew's bed. He had barely spoken two words to them since he'd stormed out of the Common Room more three weeks before. He still gave them all dirty looks and smirked a lot lately whenever they saw him, as if he knew something that they didn't. They didn't know about Andrew, but the other three boys were happy with the new arrangement, and often pretending that he wasn't even there. The two soaked boys stripped off, and left their wet things in a heap by their trunks, trusting that the house elves would tidy up after them before wrapping themselves in thick dressing gowns, collecting their toiletry bags and heading off to the shower.  
  
Twenty minutes later, they returned to their room to dress for the feast, and found that their wet clothes were now missing from the floor. They glanced up at each other, and noted that Andrew's bed hangings were no longer drawn, and the boy was pretending to read with a smug grin on his face. Zack walked into the room just then, and sat on h is own bed.  
  
"You two still not ready?" he asked. "The feast is going to start in twenty minutes."  
  
"Working on it," Connor said. "It took this long to get all of the mud out of my hair."  
  
Quentin opened his trunk to get out some fresh clothes, and stood up saying, "Bloody hell!"  
  
Zack stood up and walked over to look into Quentin's trunk. "That's a shame."  
  
Connor glanced over and saw that all of Quentin's wet clothing was now heaped into his trunk, on top of a few sheets of parchment, with ink smeared everywhere. He walked to his own trunk and flipped the lid open, to find a similar mess. All eyes turned to Andrew who looked up at them with an unconvincing look of innocence.  
  
"Oh!" he said with a nasty drawl. "I put your clothes away in your trunks before someone tripped over them; careless of you to leave them lying about."  
  
"Well," Quentin said with the smallest of smiles playing at his own lips. "How very considerate of you." He reached in and pulled the sodden clothing out, and let it wall to the floor with a wet plop, and pulled out some parchment that was covered in dripping ink stains, with barely a few words legible on it. "Funny though, I don't remember leaving _this_ out on top of my things when I closed my trunk earlier today."  
  
Connor had done the same with a similar parchment from his own trunk. "This really is a mess, isn't it? I know for a fact that I left my potions book and this parchment on my bed."  
  
Andrew was looking nervously at the three boys, who, far from acting outraged and angry, were behaving as though they had stumbled upon a mildly interesting scene. With a look of defiance, he said in his oiliest tone, "Oh _no_! I had borrowed the essays you wrote for Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts to check my own work by, they were just sitting on your beds, inside the covers of your books, so I didn't think you'd mind! When I returned them, I just set them right on top in your trunk so that you would be sure to find them!"  
  
"Well," Connor said mildly. "That would explain how this happened." He shook the parchment, and droplets of diluted ink went flying everywhere.  
  
"Yes!" Quentin agreed with some amusement in his voice that only made Andrew more confused than ever. "We should have known that leaving our books out in plain sight would be offensive to our _tidy-minded_ roommate."  
  
"Of course we should," Connor said. "But I'm afraid we have some bad news for you, Drew. The essays you borrowed from us to check your work by?"  
  
"What about them?" Andrew asked uneasily.  
  
"Well I hate to tell you this, but they were _your_ essays. Quentin and I borrowed _yours_ to check _our_ work by! That's an odd coincidence, isn't it?" Connor walked over and laid the ruined parchment on the boy's bed, and Quentin did the same. From the few words that had survived the drowning, Andrew could see that it was indeed his own writing; a fact that he had overlooked in his haste.  
  
As Andrew looked down at what his handiwork had done, his face began to turn an impressive shade of scarlet. "You! _YOU_!" he began, his rage building.  
  
"Don't worry Drew," Zack said, opening his own trunk. It's not as bad as all that. See, I borrowed your Herbology work, and here it is, safe and sound." He laid it down on the bed beside the other stack of parchment. "And since you're so _fond_ of cleaning up all of the little messes around here, it should be a real treat for you to handle this one!" He gestured toward the soggy pile of parchment and runny ink, only to have his hand slapped away as Andrew snarled incomprehensibly and stormed out of the room, slamming the door as hard as he could.  
  
Zack laughed so hard at this that tears formed in his eyes. Quentin and Connor grinned and touched their fists together in a sign of solidarity, and then pulled dry clothing from the bottom of their trunks. They met Ivy at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for them in a seat by the fire. She demanded to know what has caused Andrew to leave in such a rage, and soon they were all headed down to the feast, still chuckling merrily over the backfired prank, knowing that war had been declared against them.  
  
They were approaching the main staircase, when Quentin suddenly grabbed Connor's sleeve, and tugged, then gestured for them all to duck low against the banister. He pointed through the thick stone columns toward the small alcove beside the stairs, where they could see Andrew talking to someone who was hidden from their sight by the angle of the stairs. They couldn't hear much of what was being said over the noise coming from the open doors of the Great Hall, but he was obviously angry and making furious gestures with his arms and hands. The only words that they could hear with any clarity were, "How could they know?" Within moments, he stopped as though listening, and then nodded moodily and walked quickly away, into the Great Hall. Zack made to follow him, but Connor held him back. With in a minute, the person Andrew had been talking to stepped into view, and walked calmly into the Great Hall as well.  
  
_"Vanessa_," Quentin breathed angrily, as he watched the perfect curtain of silvery blonde hair disappear.  
  
"We should have known that Tillman wasn't smart enough to think up a good prank on his own," Connor said, finally rising and following the others down the rest of the stairs. "I think I'm going to have to appeal to my uncles for a better arsenal if this keeps up."  
  
"But why would Vanessa be helping that little git?" Zack asked. "She hates Gryffindors, most people below her year in general."  
  
"Probably to get to me without getting caught," Quentin surmised. "But we'd best keep our eyes out for both of them from now on. She's going to have to pay for this one."  
  
The feast turned out to be a merry occasion, with Peeves making an appearance and making the clouds of live bats fluttering around dive-bomb people at random. Professor Lupin was absent from the festivities, and when Connor looked up at the enchanted ceiling, he found that the clouds had cleared enough to spot the full moon shining above. He knew that his Uncle/Professor would be curled up in the shrieking shack, which had bee refurbished and made into a cozy home for him when he had accepted the permanent position as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor ten years ago. Connor had fond memories of going to the Shrieking Shack by way of a long tunnel many years ago, and being encouraged to make as much noise as possible with his cousins, to help perpetuate the rumor that the house was still haunted. Very few people knew that Lupin made his home there, and Connor himself had only visited there twice.  
  
"So," Zack said as they finished their meal, and puddings appeared on the table. "If it's not storming out tomorrow, do you all want to go down to the pitch early so I can get in some time in the air?"  
  
"Sure," Quentin said, reaching for a tart. "But you hardly need lessons any more."  
  
It was true. Once Connor had discovered Zack's balance problem, they had made relative short work of correcting it, and Zack had become good enough on a broom to play a clumsy, but fun game of Quidditch with some of the other kids on weekends. He wasn't the best of the lot, but he was far from the worst.  
  
"But I still need the practice," Zack pointed out. "Now that I'm getting the hang of it, I really like it. I kind of wish my parents could see me at it. I wrote them a letter, and they just don't see how a body can sit on a broomstick in the air; I suspect they think I'm stretching the truth about things when I tell them about my lessons and stuff."  
  
"I keep forgetting you're Muggle born," Ivy said. "It must be hard for your folks to understand what you are and what you can do."  
  
Zack nodded. "It is. I think that they seriously considered making me attend a Muggle school this year instead of sending me back. I had to really argue with them about it, and show them all of my books to prove that it wasn't a big joke. I even had Connor take a picture of me next doing a levitation spell on my Charms book so that they could actually see me using my wand and getting results when I got back to school."  
  
"So they're convinced now?" Quentin asked curiously. His father still had prejudices against Muggle-borns, however much he worked at not showing it, and it was interesting to him to hear about how Zack and his family viewed the Wizarding world, since he rarely had contact with anything Muggle related.  
  
"Pretty much," Zack grinned. "Though my parents were a bit startled by the moving photo."  
  
At Quentin and Ivy's blank looks, he explained about Muggle photographs not moving. Quentin looked fascinated, and Ivy just looked confused, causing Zack to laugh.  
  
"Did you know that Muggle pictures don't move?" Quinten asked Connor, who was also laughing.  
  
Connor nodded, and pointed to Rachel, who was sitting with her other cousins. "Rachel's mum is Muggle-born, and my Dad was raised by Muggles. Aunt Hermione's parents visit every once in a while and send them Muggle gifts all the time. After seeing some of the weird toys and things they've sent, I'm seriously thinking about taking Muggle Studies next year." "I've thought about it, too," Quentin said seriously. "But I think that that would be a bit more than my Father's nerves could take."  
  
The next day dawned sunny, but cold and windy. After breakfast, Rachel and Zack got brooms from the shed, and net Quentin, Connor and Ivy out on the Quidditch pitch. They were already in their practice robes, which meant that Connor and Quentin were wearing predominantly red, and Ivy was wearing mostly gold. Rachel begged again to be allowed to ride Connor's broom, but he wouldn't give it this time, and so they set off into the air, with about forty-five minutes to fly for pleasure before the rest of the Gryffindor team arrived for practice.  
  
Zack was daring to fly as high as the others now that his skills had improved, but tended to be more cautious in his maneuvering than the others, who enjoyed aerial acrobatics learned over a lifetime of flying. He laughed as Rachel tried to get him to do a simple loop in the air and told her that he wasn't quite ready to fly upside down yet.  
  
It happened so fast, that no one had much time to react. Connor stiffened on his broom, several feet above Zack, and suddenly called out, "Catch him!" Everyone looked up at his to see what he was talking about, when only a few seconds later, a gust of wind hit the fliers, and Zack slid sideways and tumbled off of his broom. He was at least forty feet above the ground, and barely had time to register he was falling before both Rachel and Ivy managed to get below him before he'd fallen more than fifteen feet. He threw out his arms, desperately scrabbling in the air for anything that could save him, and grabbed the handle of Ivy's broom, as Rachel grabbed his other arm, leaving him dangling between them in the air. They slowly sank down to the grassy pitch and helped Zack regain his feet. Quentin and Connor were both a bit white-faced as they landed with and ran over to see if their friend was all right.  
  
"That was close!" Zack said, blowing out a shaky breath, massaging his shoulder, where it had been jerked when Rachel grabbed him. "Thank you so much!"  
  
"Lucky Connor gave us a few seconds of warning, or we might not have caught you!" Rachel said.  
  
"I thought he was already falling when I shouted," Connor said. "I'm glad it turned out to be a warning instead."  
  
"You and me both," Zack said with feeling.  
  
"This is one case where I'm not going to ride you about keeping that pre- cog stuff quiet!" Quentin said, sitting on the ground to catch his breath.  
  
None of them noticed Quentin's sister, Vanessa, standing just out of site in the stands, where she had hidden herself in order to spy on the Gryffindor's team practice, or the calculating look that entered her eyes as she listened to the Gryffindors. As the Gryffindor team approached the pitch for their practice, Vanessa drew herself further into the shadows and prepared to see what her own team would be up against the next day. 


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter 6**

_ He who fears being conquered is sure of defeat. – Napoleon I  
  
_ Connor and Quentin had missed lunch because practice had gone well past the hours in which lunch was served, and so they made sure that they were early for dinner. Ivy and Zack were in the Common Room, working on something with Charms, and said they'd meet the other two in the Great Hall later. They had just come down the main stairs, when Vanessa stepped out of the shadows from beside the stairs and grabbed Quentin's arm.  
  
"Not so fast, _Leo_," she said silkily. "I want a word with you and your little friend."  
  
She had stayed to watch her baby brother at practice, and had not liked what she had seen at all. The Gryffindors had put together a very strong and skilled team, and would not be easily beaten. She felt that it was her duty as a Slytherin, and a future team captain (if Snape had any brains at all), to even out the odds a bit before the game between the two houses. She had had all afternoon to decide how to use what she had learned today to best serve her interests, and thought that she knew which tack to take.  
  
"What do you want, Vanessa?" Quentin demanded, his guard immediately in place. His sister never sought him out for friendly chats, and the fact that she had been lying in wait for them didn't bode well.  
  
"I know about your little friend's secret," Vanessa told him, looking pointedly at Connor. "I saw what happened at the Quidditch pitch this morning. He knew that that other kid was going to fall off of his broom before it even happened." She knew all of the her brother's friends names, of course, but derived pleasure out of refusing to acknowledge that they were important enough for her to use them. Quentin's face had gotten pale, but Connor simply crossed his arms and leaned against the wall as if he was bored. The first reaction pleased her, but the second confused her a little, since she was sure from what she had heard that he did not want others knowing his secret.. "That got me to thinking about a few other strange things that have happened around Potter. The Ashwinder eggs, for a start."  
  
"Are you going someplace with all of this?" Connor asked blandly, not giving away the fact that his heart was beating like a drum in his chest. "I didn't get lunch, and I'm starving."  
  
Quentin looked warily at his friend; by the tone of his voice and his casual attitude, he clearly didn't understand how malicious his sister could be. It was never wise to antagonize her at the best of times, and she plainly had some motive in all of this.  
  
"Where I'm going," Vanessa said icily, flipping her long hair over her shoulder and stepping closer, so that there would be no mistake of her sincerity, "Is straight to the biggest gossip in the school to let her know all about your little talent. _Unless_..."  
  
"Unless?" Connor arched an eyebrow, acting unimpressed with her threat. His parents and aunts and uncles had all worried about a situation like this one arising, and had drilled him countless times in what he should do about it if it did. He had thought it silly then, but he wasn't laughing now as her gray eyes flashed with fury and the corners of her mouth turned up in a smug smile.  
  
"Unless you agree to throw the Slytherin/Gryffindor match," she said with a hint of triumph in her voice. "If you don't want your secret spread all over the school, you'd better play your worst tomorrow."  
  
Connor had been idly inspecting his fingernails while Vanessa had been stating her demand. When she finished, he gave a short, amused (he hoped) laugh and said, "Nice try. It's good to know that the Gryffindor team has you that scared, but your plan won't wash."  
  
"Oh, I think it will," Vanessa smiled confidently. "Or you'll look like a bigger freak than your dear old dad ever was."  
  
Professor McGonagall paused on one of the steps of the main staircase and looked down, unnoticed by those below. She had seen Connor and Quentin in the stairwell, obviously talking to another person, who had waist length silvery blond hair, and had suspected mischief. She had believed that she had been adept at spotting trouble when she had been head of Gryffindor House, but since becoming Headmistress many years ago, that talent had been honed into a sixth sense of sorts. She knew Vanessa Malfoy's reputation as a bully and a manipulator well from her conversations with Severus and others, though thus far, the girl had been clever enough not to get caught with her hands dirty from anything serious. Something was telling her to check on these kids now, though, and she didn't like what she heard of the last few words of the conversation she was about to interrupt.  
  
"Is there a problem here, children?" she asked, looking pointedly at Vanessa with an arched brow.  
  
"Not at all, Professor," Vanessa said brightly. "Just having a little chat with my brother."  
  
"Yes, Professor," Connor added calmly. "Vanessa was just telling me that she would tell the whole school about my precognitive abilities if Quint and I didn't agree to play poorly at tomorrow's match."  
  
Quentin looked thunderstruck, and Vanessa looked at though she had just been slapped; this was evidently _not_ the reaction that she had counted on. "I think he must have misunderstood me, Professor," Vanessa said. "I was just..."  
  
"Oh I understood her perfectly," Connor contradicted not letting her finished whatever lie she'd been about to utter.  
  
"Well," McGonagall said briskly. Her nostrils were pinched and white, and her mouth a thin line that told anyone who knew her that she was seriously angry. "I think that you and I will need to have a very serious talk, Miss Malfoy! My office, please, _immediately_!"  
  
With a last venomous look at the two Gryffindors, the Slytherin girl followed behind the headmistress, feverishly formulating a story in her head to try to allay the older woman's suspicions and worm her way out of trouble. Potter and Quentin were going to pay for this!  
  
"You would not _believe_ the look on her face!" Connor laughed the next morning as he, Zack, Ivy and Quentin sat by the fire in the Common Room while they waited for Rachel to come down. Connor and Quentin were both dressed in their game robes, and they were waiting so that they could all go down to breakfast together.  
  
"You're a dead man," Quentin said with a shake of his head, a tone of wonder in his voice. While he was delighted that his obnoxious sister had gotten a taste of her own medicine, he was still absolutely floored that Connor had challenged her that way. Vanessa was a formidable adversary, and he sincerely hoped that Connor was up to fight that was sure to be coming.  
  
"I'm going to have to agree with Quint on this one," Ivy said. "She's going to skin you alive and hang your hide out to dry if you don't watch your back."  
  
"He's got friends to watch it for him," Zack said emphatically.  
  
Connor saluted Zack in thanks as he watched Rachel skip down the steps. "I couldn't throw the game," he said logically. "And I couldn't let her hold anything over my head, or I'd just end up being her puppet for the next three years until she's left school, or even afterward."  
  
"Or until she decided to spill her guts and tell someone the whole story." Rachel agreed with a yawn, a bit sleepy still from her late night.  
  
"For now, she'll think twice before saying anything to anybody; McGonagall will see to that," he said with satisfaction. "If word suddenly gets out, Vanessa will be on the very short list of suspects."  
  
"Any idea what kind of punishment McGonagall dished out?" Ivy asked as they all headed for the portrait hole.  
  
"Not a clue, yet," Connor said cheerfully, considering the possibilities. "But I hope it was good. Maybe something to do with the Forbidden Forest..."  
  
At breakfast, they were all quick to notice that the Slytherin team was all sitting together, dressed in their traditional Green and Silver robes. Noticeably absent in their number was Vanessa, who was dressed in her black Hogwarts uniform, sitting at the opposite end of the table, looking sullen. A quick count of the green robes told them that the team had been allowed to replace their star Chaser with one of their reserve players.  
  
"I guess that answers the question of what her punishment was," Rachel said, looking a bit pityingly toward the Slytherin girl. "I wonder how long she's out for."  
  
"I think she got what she deserved," Zack said firmly, not feeling the least bit sorry at her predicament. He'd felt the sting on her sharp tongue on more occasions than he could count, and he relished the fact that she'd finally slit her own throat with it.  
  
Connor shrugged, slightly uncomfortable at the way her team had shunned her. Vanessa was mean spirited and manipulative, but he knew how _he_ would feel if he couldn't play Quidditch, even temporarily. He didn't think his friends would abandon him, however, no matter how many games he was banned for. As they sat at their own table, next to the rest of the Gryffindor team, Quentin and Connor looked at each other, and suddenly their nerves kicked in. The realization that they would shortly be playing in their first real Hogwarts Quidditch game, and not a casual game with friends or family, settled on them.  
  
"You two look as though you've seen a ghost!" Mariah said, looking on them with amusement. She remembered her first game and the nausea that had accompanied it, and saw that her two newest Chasers had it bad.  
  
"We see ghosts every day," Rachel said in confusion.  
  
"It's just a Muggle expression," Zack explained with a grin. "If Muggles see a ghost, they really freak out – just like these two are about to do."  
  
Connor really wanted to protest, but found that his stomach became queasy at the thought of opening his mouth. Quentin called upon the Malfoy fortitude and managed to say, "Well we are not Muggles, and we are _not _freaking out."  
  
"So you'll be wanting a nice big bowl of porridge," Zack said, scooping a large amount of his usual morning fare into a bowl and setting it in front of Quentin. "You're going to need your strength."  
  
"Er," he said, eyeing the bowl with distaste. "I don't like porridge. Connor can have this."  
  
Connor shook his head vehemently, and pushed away the bowl that Quentin had slid over to him. He swallowed, and then managed to say, "Not hungry."  
  
The others chuckled, and Zack reclaimed the bowl and dug in. Once it became clear that no one was going to force them to eat, Connor and Quentin were able to join in the conversation, which centered, unsurprisingly, on Quidditch and Vanessa's absence from the Slytherin team.  
  
"I heard that she's got a ban from this game, and that she's also got a week's worth of detention with McGonagall." Beater Jeremy Ogden said from across the table. "But no one knows why, and apparently Vanessa's not talking."  
  
"With _McGonagall_?" Chaser Amanda Barton asked in surprise. The offender's head of house usually punished most violations of rules, even fairly serious ones; a week's worth detention with McGonagall would have to have been a huge infraction.  
  
If anyone found the silence among the numerous Weasleys at the table strange, no one said so. Connor had held a brief meeting in the Library last night with all of his cousins and had written a letter home to his parents, though he was sure that McGonagall would have done the same. He wanted to make sure that everyone knew the score when it came to Vanessa, and they had all agreed that they would need to be especially careful about what they said about Connor when other people were around. Connor found it comforting that he could call on his family to close ranks and be supportive. That night, the only nightmares he had suffered were about the Slytherin Quidditch team chasing him with Beater's bats.  
  
Rumors and speculation soon gave way to last minute talk of strategy and flying patterns. Before Connor was quite ready for it, Mariah stood, and beckoned to her team to follow her out. In the Gryffindor changing room, they strapped on all of their protective padding and checked over all of their gear. Mariah gave them a pep talk as they listened to the footsteps of hundreds of students making their way to the stands to watch the match. Just a few minutes later, Quentin picked up his broom, touched his gloved fist to Connor's and said, "Here we go!" The third chaser, Amanda Barton, put one arm around each of them and squeezed reassuringly, propelling them forward out onto the pitch.  
  
Connor swallowed hard, and tried to block out the deafening noise of cheering students coming from the stands surrounding the pitch. There was a sea of red and green, depending on which team each person was supporting. There was slightly more red in the crowd as far as he could tell, probably owing to the fact the Slytherin had won the Quidditch cup for two years in a row, and the other houses wanted to see them lose their grip on it this year. He forced himself not to look any more closely at the crowd in order to keep his nerves in check, and focused instead on moving to his place and mounting his broom in preparation for the start of the game. Mariah walked to the center of the pitch to face the Slytherin team's captain; a hard- faced sixth year named Aurelia Flint. Madam O'Leary, the referee, bid the captains to shake hands, and then blew her whistle, indicating that they should kick off into the air so that she could release the balls.  
  
Connor forgot his nerves as soon as his feet left the ground. He looked over to Amanda, who had a look of intense concentration on her face, and then over to Quentin, who was wearing a wide grin. It looked as though Quentin's nerves had been left on the ground as well. They waited while the Snitch was released; Connor caught sight of it buzzing past Aurelia's head before disappearing. The bludgers were released directly after that, and then Madam O'Leary tossed the Quaffle high into the air. It seemed to hang there for a moment before Amanda shot forward, snatching it from the hands of the Slytherin Chaser, and making her way toward the opposing goal hoops. Connor and Quentin flanked her, and they were soon passing the ball smoothly back and forth while dodging Bludgers and avoiding the other Chasers. Quentin made the first goal for Gryffindor, and Connor made one on his second attempt. The Slytherin Beaters were brutal in their attacks, and Gryffindor had a tough job avoiding Bludgers sent from every direction.  
  
The first time-out was called in what seemed like no time at all to Connor, and he wondered if something had gone wrong that he hadn't noticed. He landed with a _thud _in the grass between Quentin and Mariah, and only noticed that he was out of breath when he saw that the others were as well. They huddled up and Mariah said, "We're doing great. We're up by sixty points, but it's still anyone's game. Aiden and Jeremy, I need you two to keep an eye on Amanda, the Slytherins seem to be targeting her at the moment, since she's scored the most goals so far. Connor, Quentin, you're doing fantastic; how are you feeling? Getting tired?"  
  
"Tired?" Connor asked, puzzled.  
  
"Well we've been at it for thirty-five minutes," Mariah said with a chuckle. "Glad to hear it isn't weighing on you. Whitney, that snitch hasn't shown at all yet, so just keep alert. You've got a better broom than their seeker, but he'll play dirty if he thinks you're going to get there ahead of him. Everyone all right? Good. Let's get back out there and kick some Slytherin butt."  
  
They all returned to their starting positions, and the Quaffle was put back into play. Connor managed to swipe it almost immediately, and swore under his breath as it was knocked out of his hand as he was passing it to Amanda. Jeremy sent a Bludger, and the Slytherin Chaser dropped the Quaffle as the large iron ball hit him in the solar plexus and knocked the air out of his lungs. Quentin snatched the slowly falling Quaffle from the air and they all set off again. They played back and forth with possession, and Connor lost track of the points after a while. Several fouls were committed by both teams, some intentional and some not, and penalty shots taken; Connor was frustrated at how often the Slytherin Keeper was able to keep them from scoring. He had just managed to score another goal, when he heard a collective gasp from the crowd, and tuned his hearing in to the announcer as he pursued a Slytherin chaser who was currently in possession of the Quaffle.  
  
"There it is, folks!" came the voice of the student announcer. "The snitch has finally been sighted, and both seekers are in pursuit! Glendale from Gryffindor is really pushing maximum speed from her broom, with Walker of Slytherin close behind. This is one fast Snitch! The other players took their eyes from the game to follow the progress of the Seekers, but Connor's focus was absolute, and his job wasn't over yet. He took advantage of the lapse in concentration and seized the Quaffle from the Chaser in green, and turned back toward the opposing goal hoops. He scored just seconds before he heard the announcer cry out, "I don't believe it! Slytherin gets the Snitch, but Gryffindor wins by only ten points! Connor Potter's last goal has won his team the game! Official final score: Slytherin 340, Gryffindor 350, game time: One hour, forty-seven minutes!"  
  
Connor was almost unseated from his broom as Quinten crashed joyfully into him and Aiden hit him from the other side. They landed on the pitch as one, and were joined by Amanda, Mariah, Jeremy and Whitney, who were jubilant over their win.  
  
"I didn't even see you make that last goal!" Jeremy admitted with a grin. "Thank Merlin one of us was paying attention!"  
  
"Actually," Connor said as Gryffindors poured out onto the grass and surrounded their champions. "I didn't know the score of the game, I just saw an opening and took it!"  
  
Hands were clapping him on the back from all directions, and shouts of congratulations could be heard over the intense jeers and booing from the Slytherin supporters. Connor felt as though his face would crack in two if his smile got any wider, and exchanged handshakes with Quentin as everyone clamored to make their congratulations heard. It was the quiet voice in his ear saying, "Well done, son," that caught his attention, and he turned to find his Dad grinning down at him, with his Mum close behind.  
  
"Dad!" Quentin yelled above the din.  
  
Connor swung around in confusion to see Quentin throwing his arms around a tall blonde man in a hug. Looking up at his own father, he wasn't surprised to find his expression calm and unreadable.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter 7**

**  
** _You're writing the story of your life one moment at a time.  
- Doc Childre and Howard Martin  
_  
Quentin had been surprised, but pleased to see his father standing on the pitch in the aftermath of the game. He had not mentioned coming to the school in his last letter, and enjoyed the fact that he had wanted to see his son play in his real first game. "I'm glad you came, Dad!" he said. "I want you to meet my friends."  
  
Connor was standing nearby with a man who was obviously his father, and pretty redheaded woman who was trying to wipe a smudge of dirt off of his face. "Connor! Come meet my dad!" Quentin said cheerfully, even though he was aware that there were certain amounts of tension between the adults. "Dad," he said proudly. "This is my best mate, Connor."  
  
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy," Connor said politely, offering a still-gloved hand to the older man."  
  
"I've heard a lot about you from Quentin," Draco Malfoy answered smoothly, shaking hands with the boy. "You both played an excellent game."  
  
"Thanks," the boys said together.  
  
"Hey Quint!" Connor said, not noticing how Draco winced at the nickname. "This is my Dad and my Mum!"  
  
"I'm please to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Potter," Quentin replied politely, offering his hand to each of them in turn.  
  
"We're glad to meet you, Quentin," Ginny said sincerely. Connor had spent the entire summer talking about how much he missed his friends, and it was evident now that Quentin returned the feelings of friendship.  
  
"Those are very nice gloves," Harry commented, inspecting the supple red leather and gold embroidery when Quentin obligingly held out his hands. "Very cool."  
  
"Thank you," the boy answered, pleased. "My father gave them to me as a gift for making the team."  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco, amused at the image of Draco ordering such an expensive item emblazoned with the Gryffindor symbol after all of their school days rivalry. "Draco," he greeted. "It's been quite some time."  
  
"It has," Draco agreed, shaking hands briefly.  
  
"Your Quentin is quite talented on a broom," Ginny said into the silence that followed. "You must be very proud of him."  
  
"Yes," he agreed. "His mother and I are both very proud. I'm afraid that she had other commitments today, but she was very that sorry she couldn't be here." This last part was directed at his son, who nodded in understanding.  
  
"Hey you two! Are you coming up to celebrate?" Aiden called over to Connor and Quentin, while waving happily at his Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry.  
  
"You go ahead," Draco smiled down at Quentin. "I have some business to see to with the Headmistress about your sister."  
  
Quentin nodded and hugged his father once more, smiling as he heard him murmur, "I'm very proud of you."  
  
Connor looked to his own parents as Mr. Malfoy strode off toward the castle, and they chuckled at the eager look on his face. "We're going up to see Remus," his Dad said. "We'll see you again this evening before we leave."  
  
The two boys ran off to join their teammates in the changing rooms, and then after a quick wash, were happy to find Rachel, Ivy and Zack waiting for them at the main entrance to the school. They talked about some of the more spectacular plays of the game on their way up to Gryffindor Tower, and when they climbed through the portrait hole, they were greeted with a loud cheer from the celebrating students. Everyone seemed to be holding a Butterbeer and there were copious amounts of sweets being passed around from hand to hand.  
  
"Where did all of this come from?" Ivy asked, accepting several cold bottles and passing one to each of her friends.  
  
"All compliments of Connor's dad!" Aiden said happily. "All of this stuff was in boxes with a note from Uncle Harry that said, 'congratulations, and enjoy, Gryffindors!' taped to the table."  
  
"Thank you Uncle Harry!" Rachel grinned tearing open a Chocolate Frog and popping it into her mouth.  
  
Connor grinned, and flopped down onto the sofa where they made a spot for him. '_Way to go, Dad!'_ he thought, selecting a tart from the tin that was passed to him, and carefully avoiding the Canary Creams that were tucked in among the other biscuits and pastries. As talked turned to the match, and Connor's saving goal, everyone seemed to have something to add to the story. Shawn ( _Fred's son in fifth year_) and Victoria Weasley ( _Charlie's daughter in third year_) eventually snuck down to the kitchens and returned a short while later with a huge platter of sandwiches and a basket full of fresh fruit, so the party could continue without having the pesky interruption of having to leave for lunch.  
  
Everyone was feeling lazy and content as evening slowly approached. Zack was roasting marshmallows on a stick, by popping Pepper Imps into his mouth and breathing fire at them. Ivy and Rachel were sorting through the huge stack of Chocolate Frog cards that had been inside all of the packages of the sweets. Quentin had gone to have lunch with is father, before Mr. Malfoy had to go back home, and Connor had allowed himself to be lured into a game of chess with Victoria, who was the much better player. Something made the hairs on the back of Connor's neck stand up, and he looked up from the game board to find that Andrew was standing at the top of the stairwell to the boys' dormitory, staring directly at him.  
  
Connor's mood was just good enough that he thought to make some sort of placating gesture toward the other boy, and called up to him, "There's still some Butterbeer down here, if you want some."  
  
Many eyes turned to look up the stairs to see who Connor was speaking to, and were shocked by the look of loathing that spread over Andrew's features as he spat, "I don't want anything you have to offer, Potter."  
  
All eyes then turned to Connor to see how he would handle such a rude reply, but Connor simply shrugged, and moved his Knight to a new position. "Suit yourself," she said, not looking at the boy again.  
  
There were many whispers amongst the students gathered in little groups, and Connor heard words like 'rude' and 'git' being used with frequency in regards to Andrew. Connor simply shrugged it off and continued getting beaten at chess by his cousin. If the other boy wasn't interested in a truce, then that was fine; he, Zack and Quentin could handle it. Silently cursing his abysmal chess-playing ability, he noted that he would be loosing his match in about five moves. When Professor Lupin came through the portrait hole and smiled at everyone while making his way toward Connor, he breathed a sigh of relief – perhaps he wouldn't be forced to endure Victoria's gloating after all.  
  
"Connor," Lupin said as he looked down at the board. "You're fighting a losing battle here, so perhaps it's best for you that I came to fetch you. Your parents would like to visit with you before they leave."  
  
"Sorry, Tori," Connor said with a grin. "Looks like we won't be able to finish."  
  
"You got lucky,' She sneered companionably.  
  
Connor followed Lupin out through the portrait hole and along the corridor, wondering where they were going to meet his Mum and Dad. As if reading his mind, the Professor said, "Your parents are in Professor McGonagall's office, Connor. They're concerned about the incident with Vanessa Malfoy last night, and Professor McGonagall wants to let you know exactly how she handled that particular situation."  
  
Connors heart sank. He had sent them an owl about it already, but if they were worried enough about it to come to the school and meet with the headmistress, he knew that a lecture was going to be forthcoming; a long one. His glum expression earned him a chuckle and a pat on the back from Lupin as they approached the entrance to the Headmistress's office. Lupin glanced at the gargoyle guarding the entrance and said, "animagus." The gargoyle leapt aside, and Connor stepped onto the moving staircase that spiraled upward toward a landing with a heavy wooden door. Lupin stepped off of the stairs right behind him and knocked briskly with the Griffin knocker in the center of the door. When he heard Professor McGonagall call out to come in, Lupin reached around Connor and opened the door, gesturing for the boy to precede him.  
  
"Ah, Connor, please come in and sit down," the Headmistress greeted him warmly. She had stood when they entered, and Connor was surprised to see quite a large table in the center of the room, where her parents were sitting. He took a seat beside his father, and looked at them apprehensively. Professor Lupin sat beside McGonagall, and re-warmed the cup in front of him with his wand before taking a sip of the tea that he had obviously abandon to go and fetch Connor from the Common Room. "Hey Con," his father greeted him with a smile.  
  
"Would you care for a cup of tea?" McGonagall asked, lifting a teapot to refill his mother's cup.  
  
"No, thank you," Connor answered politely. He turned to his father while the teapot was set down, and said, "Thank you for all of the Butterbeer and Sweets. They were a big hit."  
  
Harry smiled at his son, surprised to note how much he seemed to have grown in the short time since he'd left home. "You earned it."  
  
"Well Connor," the Headmistress said kindly. "I suppose you can surmise why we're all meeting here like this. I wrote to your parents concerning Ms. Malfoy's attempt to exploit you, and I understand that you did so as well. We've discussed it, and we felt that you should be told exactly what was decided, so that all of us are on the same page, so to speak."  
  
Connor nodded.  
  
"First of all," his Mum said firmly," you did exactly the right thing. You didn't let her bully you or use what little information she had to rattle you into doing or saying anything foolish."  
  
"We're also glad that you wrote to us right away to let us know what was going on." His Dad added. "It makes it a lot easier for us, when we know that you trust us enough to communicate with us."  
  
"Well I knew that Professor McGonagall would write to you," Connor shrugged, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the praise. "I thought you'd want to hear it from me, as well."  
  
"That's exactly what we want," his Mum confirmed.  
  
"Mr. Potter," the headmistress was looking at Connor, so he assumed that she wasn't talking to his Dad. "Vanessa Malfoy was banned from today's match, as I'm sure you know. She was also given one week of detention, to be served with me, and another week's detention with her head of house. Furthermore, twenty five points has been deducted from Slytherin, and I met with her father earlier today about her conduct."  
  
Connor was shocked at the severity of the punishment, and said as much before he could stop himself. He wondered if Mr. Malfoy knew about his abilities at all. He had told Quentin that it was kind of a secret, but had never asked him not to tell his father. Vanessa hadn't known before yesterday, so he was guessing that her father hadn't either.  
  
"It may seem harsh," she told him in a no-nonsense tone. "But she needed a very strong deterrent against _accidentally_ letting it slip out at some point. Her personal stance throughout my interview with her was that of misunderstood martyr." "The meeting with her father was a little more encouraging, and she seemed more repentant after a brief meeting alone with him. He, of course has no idea of your abilities."  
  
Connor snorted at that, and was rewarded with the very smallest of smiles by the adults in the room.  
  
"The meeting with her father was a little more encouraging, and she seemed more repentant after a brief meeting alone with him. He, of course has no idea of your abilities, and was simply told that Vanessa was using extortion and threats against another student."  
  
"She's going to want to get me back for this."  
  
"Yes, I fear she will try," McGonagall said bluntly. "She left my office a very angry girl, and while she may not tell anyone about your clairvoyance, it is probable that she will seek to make your life as uncomfortable as possible for the foreseeable future."  
  
"I wasn't going to say anything before," Connor said slowly, not wanting to start more of a fuss. "But me and my friends saw Andrew Tillman taking to Vanessa the other night before dinner, after he had tried to pull a really nasty prink on my and Quentin. It seemed to us like she had been in on the prank he'd pulled, but I don't know for sure."  
  
"What kind of prank?" Professor Lupin asked with a frown.  
  
Connor explained to the adults about the prank with the wet clothes and homework, and how they had turned the tables on the other boy. He also told them about the other boys in their year rejecting Andrew, and how he had stormed out.  
  
"So it basically started off with Andrew getting mad at you when you fell out of bed in the middle of the night, and then day after that the other boys told him off, and it ended with him trying to destroy your homework."  
  
"Pretty much," Connor said with a shrug. "Anyway, right after he found out that he'd ruined his own homework, he stormed out, and a few minutes later we found him hiding in a dark corner complaining to Vanessa."  
  
"I see," McGonagall said with a grave expression.  
  
"Andrew has been a real jerk since we got back to school," Connor said. "I tried to offer him some Butterbeer today, but he just got nasty and said he didn't want anything from me."  
  
"Well, I don't feel that I can give you any details about Mr. Tillman's situation, but I will say this: he's had a very hard time at home over the summer. He may be acting out because of it, and just doesn't know how to deal with it."  
  
"I'll see if I can get him to open up," Lupin offered.  
  
"What we're trying to say, Connor," the Headmistress said briskly, "is that we want you to be particularly careful. With two people exceptionally angry with you, and one of them in your own dormitory, we want you to practice caution in everything you say and do. You may want to warn your friends of the same."  
  
McGonagall nodded, and then stood. "I have some business to attend to before dinner," she said to the Potter family. "Please feel free to stay and use my office for as long as you'd like." She gathered a few papers from her desk and left, and Lupin also excused himself and said good-bye.  
  
Connor sat at the table with his parents and got caught up with the news from home. Lucy and Ian had been a handful since Connor had returned to school, and their Mother had caught them poring over their big brother's first year textbooks. They would be attending Hogwarts the following year, and were determined to do well, feeling that they should read as much as they could before they started. Six-year-old Adam had developed a talent for charming any adult he came into contact with, and had recently lost a front tooth.  
  
Connor soaked up everything his Mum and Dad had to say; grateful that he had not received the long lecture that he had been sure was forthcoming when he'd come to the Headmistress's office. When the thunder of footsteps that told them that dinner was about to start reached their ears, his Mum hugged him tightly and told him he should go join his classmates for the evening meal, as she and his father would be leaving to retrieve his brothers and sister from their grandmother's house. He hugged his Dad, and then started for the door when he remembered something Quentin and Zack had told him. He turned around and asked, "Mum, do I talk in my sleep at home?"  
  
"No," she answered with a slight frown. "You snore something terrible, but you don't talk. Why?"  
  
"The guys say I talk in my sleep," he said. "They said I've been doing it almost since our first night back."  
  
"That's odd," his Dad said, also frowning a little. "Have you had something on your mind?"  
  
"Not really," Connor answered. "Just a strange dream."  
  
"A strange dream?" he asked. "Just one?"  
  
Connor nodded, slightly embarrassed. "It's pretty much the same every time."  
  
His Mum gestured for him to come back to sit with them, and asked him to recount his dream with as much detail as possible. With a sigh and a dramatic roll of his eyes that made Harry's lips twitch, Connor sat back down and told them everything that he could remember. He was alarmed by the way both of his parents looked suddenly pale, and asked them what was wrong.  
  
"Nothing," his father answered too quickly.  
  
"It's just that we're concerned," his Mum said soothingly. "We have to wonder if this is some new manifestation of your abilities."  
  
"It's just a dream, Mum!" he said with exasperation.  
  
"Yes, well, just the same, I think I'll write to Madam MacTaggart and get her opinion," his mother said firmly.  
  
Amelia MacTaggart had been the witch who had first diagnosed Connor's precognitive abilities, and who still visited once a year to interview him and his parents. She was a nice enough lady, but Connor hated to be fussed over. "Mum," he moaned, holding the word for several syllables.  
  
"I'm just going to write, Connor. If this means anything, we should be forewarned," she said.  
  
"Dad..." Connor appealed.  
  
"Sorry Son," Harry said. "I agree with your mother on this one. Now go and join your friends. We'll write to you soon."  
  
Connor looked closely at his parents, who still seemed a little dazed, and noted that their smiles didn't quite reach their eyes. As he left the room, he shut the door behind him, and then pressed his ear to the keyhole to see if his parents would discuss him. "Why would he be dreaming about the Department of Mysteries?" his mother asked with a trembling voice.  
  
"I don't know," his Dad answered, sounding equally shaky. "But we need to find out."  
  
Connor didn't hear anything more, and so he left to head to the Great Hall. He had a lot to think over, and wondered what exactly the Department of Mysteries was, and if he should tell his friends about the dreams.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter 8**

_All that you see or seem is but a dream within a dream. –Edgar Allen Poe_

_  
  
_ Connor went down to join his friends at dinner, but didn't say anything to them about his dream or his parents' reaction to what he had told them about it. He wanted to think about it first, and try to figure out why he was dreaming of an apparently real place, when he hadn't been there before. Up until now, he had believed that the doors and the round room in his dream were symbolic of something, not an actual place; and now he had learned what that place was (sort of). He knew from his many trips to the Ministry of Magic with various family members that the Department of Mysteries was part of the Ministry, and that people who worked there were called 'Unspeakables.' What he _didn't_ know was how and why his parents had known, from his description, exactly where his dream was taking place. Neither of them had ever worked for the Department of Mysteries that he knew of, nor did any of his Aunts or Uncles; his Grandfather Arthur had worked at the Ministry, but he had been Head of Magical Law Enforcement when he died. 

He finally (reluctantly) decided that the first thing to do tomorrow after classes would be to check the school library for information about Unspeakables and the Department of Mysteries. With that settled in his mind, he joined in the general conversation of the table, which was still jovial due to their win that morning. Before long, Ivy and Zack excused themselves to go back to the Common Room to work on their Charms homework, and Rachel had moved down the table to talk with Aiden. Connor and Quentin were sitting side by side, and Connor noted that his friend looked vaguely troubled, and kept glancing over at the Slytherin table, to where his sister was sitting alone again. Connor followed his gaze and noticed that Vanessa's eyes were red, and she appeared to have been crying recently. He wondered how long her friends and her team would continue to shun her.

"McGonagall told me about her detentions," Connor said quietly. He disliked the pretty Slytherin girl about as much as it was possible to dislike a person, but she was still his best friend's sister. "Looks like she's taking it hard."

Quentin looked away from his sister and over at Connor. He didn't blame the other boy for the trouble Vanessa had gotten herself into. If anything, he had been worried that Connor would be angry with _him_ for having such an awful sister.

"Hard is an understatement," he said, keeping his voice low. "My Dad was furious with her, and really let her have it. I guess they didn't tell Dad whom she'd been bullying, but they told him that she had tried to cause another student '_serious damage_' and the words '_extortion_' and _'deplorable'_ came up. They told her that she was risking suspension or expulsion if she was ever involved in such a serious matter again."

"Ouch," Connor said. He could well imagine what his own parents would have had to say if he had been the one in her place.

"Yeah," Quentin agreed. "Dad even went so far as to say that if she didn't shape up and keep her nose clean, she would end up like he did - you know. Prison."

Connor swallowed a lump that had been forming in his throat. Quentin almost never talked about his father's yearlong incarceration back in the days shortly after graduating from Hogwarts himself. He had told Connor the tale one night last year when some students from another house had been especially vicious to him over having a Death Eater Grandfather and a Father that had spent time in Azkaban. Connor had come to his defense, and then the two of them had stayed up in the Common Room long into the night, while Quentin had vented his anger and told Connor and Zack the account of what had happened. It turned out that Quentin's Grandfather had been a devout Death Eater (though as school aged children a generation later, they only had the vaguest idea of what that really meant), and had wanted Quentin's father to join them as well. It seemed that at first, Quentin's father had been eager to join the Death Eaters, but when Draco Malfoy had learned what being a Death Eater entailed, he had told his father that he didn't want to _serve_ or _bow _anyone, and refused to join. Lucius Malfoy had been enraged, and had turned on him and framed him for the murder of a witch that had lived in a house near where Draco had settled down. Even though the younger Malfoy had not borne the tell tale mark on his forearm, the Dark Mark had appeared in the sky over the site of the murder, and Draco's unconscious form was found in the house of the victim. He been sent to Azkaban and held there for a year; Aurors had killed Lucius Malfoy shortly thereafter, and Draco had finally been proven innocent with the help of Albus Dumbledore. However, even though Quentin's father had inherited Lucius's considerable wealth and properties, the social stigma of having associations with the Dark Lord remained for a long time after, and he had lost any respect he might have once had in the Wizarding community. He had been forced to build his reputation based on his own works. It had taken him years, and a lot of maturing, but he had done it, and now he was a relatively well-respected wizard in the community based on his own merit.

"She's not going to take that well," Connor said, looking away when he sensed that Vanessa was looking up at them. "I hate to say it, but I think the two of us are walking around with huge targets painted on our backs that only she can see."

Quentin nodded fervently and added, "We'll have to be extra careful now, though. She won't risk getting caught again – she'll be even sneakier about it now."

That night, Connor slept well at first, dreaming happily of that day's Quidditch game. It wasn't long, though, before the dream shifted, and Andrew Tillman was standing in front of him shouting angrily, "_This is all your father's fault_!" Connor barely had time to absorb this new element to his dream when he was back in the now familiar round room.

_The walls were spinning again, the blue light a blurred streak in front of his eyes. Connor felt slightly dizzy by the time they came to a stop, and needed a moment to get oriented. Zack didn't seem to need any such concession, and strode to the door nearest to him and pushed it open. Connor passed Zack and stepped through the door to look around, and the rest peered into the room that was revealed beyond, a large stone room that looked like an amphitheatre with benches all around, and what appeared to be a one-man stage at the bottom with a tattered curtain hanging from an arch. "Not this one," Connor said, feeling uneasy, and stepped back into the round room with the others. "We're running out of time!"_

Connor jerked awake suddenly to find Quentin hovering over him. The motion that Connor had taken to be the rotation of the walls in his dream again had actually been his friend shaking him awake.

"Oh no," he groaned quietly, realizing at once that it was still dark outside. "I'm sorry. Did I wake everyone?"

"No," Quentin said in a whisper. "You didn't even wake _me_. I was just coming back from the toilet when I heard you say something about running out of time. I thought you were talking to me for a minute, then realized you were still asleep."

"Good," Connor said with relief. "If I keep making so much noise, you guys are going to end up making me sleep in the Common Room."

"Another nightmare?" Quentin asked, ignoring his friend's attempt at levity.

"No, not really," Connor answered truthfully. "Just a strange dream."

"Must have been. Want to talk about it?"

"I think I do," Connor said tiredly. "But let's leave it until tomorrow when the others are awake. I think I might need some help finding out something."

Quentin nodded in acceptance and returned to his own bed, whispering good night and going back to sleep. Connor pondered over his dream for a while, but eventually he, too, fell back into a peaceful slumber.

The next morning, Andrew left the dormitory to go shower, and Quentin took the opportunity to ask Connor again about his dream. Zack seemed interested in what Connor had overheard while eavesdropping on his parents, even though he didn't really understand any of it. Being Muggleborn, he really didn't have a whole lot of ideas about how the Ministry of Magic worked, but was willing enough to learn, and volunteered to spend the evening in the library with the others finding out as much as they could about the Department of Mysteries.

"Just remember," Connor warned. "We don't want to tell anyone what we're really looking for. If Lupin or McGonagall find out, they'll tell my parents, and then my parents will freak out."

"And we need to be careful not to say anything around Andrew, either." Quentin added. "We don't really know what his problem is, or if he's reporting anything we do or say to my sister."

They dressed quickly and grabbed their books for Potions and Charms before heading down the stairs. Ivy and Rachel were just coming down from the girl's staircase, and they all climbed through the portrait hole and started off for the Great Hall. Making sure that they were not being followed or listened to, Connor quickly told the girls what was happening, and they agreed to help out after classes.

"You know," Rachel said thoughtfully as they took their places at the Gryffindor table, as far from others as possible. "I could swear I've heard my Mum and Dad talking about the Department of Mysteries before when they thought us kids weren't around, but I really wasn't paying a whole lot of attention. Mum's always going on about something to do with the Ministry, and it's usually boring. I think it's something to do with research."

"Doesn't your Mum work for the Ministry?" Zack asked. He had trouble keeping track of what all the Weasley adults did for employment, and the only thing he was sure of was that Connor and Rachel's Dads designed and manufactured broomsticks.

"Yes," Rachel said, helping herself to some eggs. "But not in the Department of Mysteries. She's an Advocate who represents the interests of victims of Wizarding crimes when trials are held before the Wizengamot."

"Do you think there's a way to ask her about the Department of Mysteries without making her suspicious?' Connor asked hopefully.

"Not if you don't want her mentioning it to your folks," Rachel said bluntly. "Let's see what we can find out in the Library first, and then work from there."

"Right," Connor sighed. He hated the Library, and tried to avoid it whenever humanly possible. The Librarian, Madam Pince, was one of the most ancient people the he had ever met, and Connor swore (to the humor of his friends) that she was two hundred and twelve years old, at least. She always seemed to be creeping about, telling people off for being too loud or harming her precious books with their 'grubby little hands' every time they turned a page. Still, there was nothing else for it, he needed to know why his parents had reacted so strangely to his dream; they had seemed afraid of the room he had described, and weren't likely to give out any information about it to him. They were already going to write to Madam MacTaggart, which was bad enough, but if his precognitive abilities were starting to change into something else, he wanted to know what. "The Library it is."

Ivy giggled at the look of revulsion that passed over Connor's face as he said the word 'library'. "It's not that bad, Con," she said with a smile. "I won't let Madam Pince get you."  
"Easy for you to say," Connor grumped. "She adores you."

"Why?" Quentin asked curiously as he picked at his sausages.

"She and my Great-Gran were really good friends," Ivy said. "Madam Pince claims that I look just like her, and that it's like looking through a window into the past every time she sees me." She gave a dramatic flutter of her eyelashes as she said the last bit, and Quentin snorted into his pumpkin juice.

"Well let's get to potions," Zack said, gathering his bag. "Snape said that we're going to be tested on that Swelling Solution today, and I want to be sure to get a seat in the back of the room."

By lunchtime, Connor had a headache of major proportions. He sat at the Gryffindor table holding an ice pack to his bruised forehead, where he'd hit it on his desk when Andrew had 'accidentally' caused his chair to slide out from under him during Charms class. He had gone to the hospital wing to see Madam Cosgrove for a headache potion, but the school's healer had been out, with no clue as to where she was or when she'd be back.

"How bad is it?" he asked Rachel, removing the ice to reveal a large purple lump.

"Oh it looks bad," she said cheerfully. "And your eyes are starting to blacken, too. What happened anyway, and why haven't you gone to the hospital wing?"

"I did," he answered, replacing the ice. "Madam Cosgrove wasn't there."

"It was Andrew," Ivy answered, dishing up some stew and sliding it over in front of Connor. "He claims it was an accident."

"If that was an accident, then I'm the Queen of England," Zack said. "He's had it in for all of us, and took a cheap shot."

"I'm not so sure," Quentin muttered. "He looked stunned when Connor got hurt."

"Well he may have been stunned when Connor hit his head," Ivy said, ladling out some more stew for herself. "But I'd be willing to wager that it wasn't a surprise when the chair flipped out from under him."

"So you're saying that he meant to embarrass Connor, not hurt him?" Rachel asked, putting together what happened from their conversation.

"I don't buy it," Zack said firmly.

"But look at it from Andrew's point of view," Quentin said seriously. "It would be really stupid of him to deliberately hurt one of us, when we sleep in the same room as him and can get back at him anytime without witnesses."

"You're right," Connor said, spooning up a mouthful without taking the ice from his head. "It's not his style. He's probably quaking in his shoes, wondering what we're going to do to him now."

"Well don't go doing anything stupid," Ivy warned. "Even without witnesses, you could get into a lot of trouble if he suddenly ends up with a black eye of his own."

"Oh I don't think we'll need to do anything to him," Quentin chuckled. "I think all we'll need to do is look at him like we _plan_ on doing something, and he'll practically be wetting himself by bedtime."

"Just as long as you don't get yourselves in trouble," Ivy said with a small smile of her own. "Are we still meeting in the Library after classes?"

"Yes," Connor said with his mouth full of stew. He swallowed and said, "With luck, we can find out what we need by dinnertime.

When they arrived at the transfiguration classroom, Professor Thompson took one look at Connor's head and sent him back to the hospital wing. Before leaving the room, Connor paused and looked back to where Andrew was sitting, making sure to make eye contact with the other boy before turning away. He felt slightly uncomfortable as he made his way down the corridor; Andrew had looked downright scared when he'd sought out his gaze. Maybe it was time to try to call a halt to the hostilities before anything really bad happened. If they could convince Andrew that they would leave him alone if he did the same, he wouldn't feel the need to talk to Vanessa about them.

The hospital wing was still empty when he got there, and there was not sign of the healer to be found. He decided that he'd better wait for her to come back, or else he'd only be sent back later. Transfiguration was his last class of the day, though he did have Astronomy tonight at midnight, and he didn't want to waste the free period repeatedly returning here to see if Madam Cosgrove had returned.

"Connor?"

Connor turned to see Professor Lupin walking toward him with concern in his eyes. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"I'm okay," he answered, letting the professor examine the lump on his head. "Just an accident in charms."

Lupin seemed satisfied that his injuries weren't serious, and sat down beside him. "Madam Cosgrove's down in the Potions classroom getting some remedies from Professor Snape," he said. "She should be back in a few minutes."

"I'll just wait then," Connor answered, rested his head against wall against which his chair sat.

"Actually I want to find you in Transfiguration," Lupin said. "I was told that you'd been sent here. I wanted to let you know that Madam MacTaggart will be paying the school a visit to speak with you about the dreams you've been having."

"Oh, no," Connor groaned. "She doesn't need to come here, honestly!"

"She actually doesn't live far from here," Lupin said calmly. "So it's not any trouble."

"Not for her, maybe," Connor said glumly. "But I'm trying hard to keep for looking like a big freak in front of my friends, and having her coming here asking me all kinds of questions..."

"Not to worry," came the smooth reply. "Your friends don't even have to know about it unless you want to tell them. You may meet with her in the Headmistress's office on Friday evening; unless something happens to detain her, she should only be here for a few hours."

When Connor's expression did not change at this bit of news, Lupin sighed and said, "Your parents are worried about you, Con."

Connor knew that this was his uncle speaking now, and relaxed a little bit. He could be more open with his uncle, and know that anything he told him would be kept in confidence. "Why did they get so upset about a silly dream?"

"Well," Lupin said, choosing his words carefully. "Your abilities have been limited to simple predictions that fulfill themselves within a very short period of time, for the most part. You tend to react to them as a matter of course without thinking about it much, and it disrupts your life relatively little. If your abilities are in a stage where they are going to expand or turn into something else, your parents need to know about it and learn as much as they can so that they can help you deal with whatever it is that's going on. It's unfamiliar territory for them, and that can be frightening. Amelia MacTaggart is the one person on earth most qualified to understand what may or may not be happening to you, and to advise on whether any action should be taken based on what she learns from her discussions with you."

"But it's only a dream," Connor complained. "And they didn't get all concerned about it until they heard what my dream was about. I feel like they already know something that they're not telling me."

"Well I can assure you that if your parents are keeping anything from you, it's for your own welfare," Lupin said, much to Connor's dissatisfaction.

"Did they tell you what my dream was about?" Connor asked.

"Yes."

"Does it mean anything to you?" he asked, watching his uncle's eyes carefully. Connor had his suspicions that Lupin was hiding something confirmed when he looked around the room and didn't quite meet his eyes as he said, "To be Honest, I don't know what to make of it. I think I hear Madam Cosgrove coming now." Sure enough, the school healer bustled in carrying a large crate full of potion bottles, and muttering about forgetting to put up a sign about her absence from the hospital wing. "Half six on Friday evening in the Headmistress's office, Conner," Lupin reminded him unnecessarily before standing and leaving the boy to the care of the healer.


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter 9

_Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it, if you have to, with the same weapons of reason which today arm you against the present. -- Marcus Aurelius_

"You look better," Ivy observed as Connor sat across from her in the library. His eyes were no longer black, the lump on his head was greatly diminished, and there was only a bluish-yellow bruise fading from the spot where his head had hit the desk.

"I feel better," he said looking around warily for any sign of Madam Pince. "What did I miss in Transfiguration?"

"Teacups into flower vases," Ivy said. "Mine kept breaking at the neck."

"No one in the class managed it perfectly," Zack pointed out, pulling out some parchment and a quill. "He set us all a two foot essay on the theory of it, due on Wednesday."

"Quentin's already searching the stacks for stuff on the Ministry," Ivy said. "I didn't know if you would wand me to ask Madam Pince about the Department of Mysteries."

Connor shrugged. "I don't see why not," he said. "She's not likely to talk to my parents, is she?"

"No, but she might say something to McGonagall or Lupin," Ivy pointed out.

"I hadn't thought of that," Connor admitted. "Better not risk it. I ran into Lupin in the hospital wing. He said that my parents told him about my dreams, and when I asked if they meant anything to him, he clammed up and changed the subject. If he found out we were looking into it, he'd tell my parents for sure."

"So we're on our own," Zack said, "I'm going to go see what I can find."

"We should all go and find a couple of books that look promising, and then keep a list of where we've looked so that we don't end up wasting time by reading things twice," Connor said.

"Sounds like a plan," Ivy agreed, and they all chose a different section to peruse.

Connor found a section on Wizarding Government and browsed through the titles until he came to a tome titled, "_Building the Ministry of Magic_" and pulled it off of the shelf. It was an especially thick volume, and so he thumbed through it before deciding whether it would be worth lugging back to the table. Inside there were illustrations and some photographs, and there appeared to be a section devoted to the different offices housed within the Ministry building. Held onto that book and quickly scanned for other likely candidates. By the time he headed back to the table, he was also carrying, "_Wizarding Government in Great Britain_" and "_The Secrets of the Ministry of Magic_" which he chose based on the titles.

When he deposited his choices on the table, he found that Ivy was already seated beside Quentin, both of whom were busily leafing through thick books. Quentin was checking the index of a book called "_Mysteries of the Wizarding World_," and Ivy was reading over a page in a slim book. He couldn't see the title of the book, but the large print at the top of the page read, "_What the Ministry doesn't want you to know_." Connor smiled to himself as he took out a piece of parchment and recorded the names of the books he had brought back, then shoved it into the center of the table so that the others could do the same. Zack appeared a moment later with a small stack of books, and winked at Connor as he opened the first one and began to read. Connor did the same and soon they were all silently flipping through pages and occasionally marking a page or scribbling down a note on a separate parchment.

Connor was disappointed in the first book he looked through. Though the Department of Mysteries was mentioned as being part of the Ministry, there was little information about it, other than the fact that the department was located on level nine of the Ministry of Magic Headquarters in London. The second book provided similar information about it, and added that it was intensely secretive and that wizards or witches that worked there were called '_Unspeakables_' and answered only to the Minister for Magic. The third book, which Connor had hoped would provide more information, turned out to be a dated account of some of the more illicit dealings from within the Ministry from long ago, before the current structure was developed to prevent corruption. There was nothing about round rooms, or tiny stages, or torches that gave off blue light. With a sigh, Connor closed the last book and looked to see if the others had found anything interesting.

"Sorry Connor," Zack said quietly, closing the last book in his stack as well. He pointed to the notes that Connor had already written. "It looks like you found the same exact information that I did."

Ivy looked up from her last book and read (upside down) what Connor had written. "Well that's actually more than I found in any of these," she said, placing a hand on the stack in front of her. "What about you, Quentin?"

"Not much here, though I did find a little side note that said that the Department of Mysteries was one of the first areas built when the Ministry of Magic Headquarters was constructed in London. There was speculation as to why they built it first, but this book doesn't answer their own question."

"Well that's more than any of us found out," Connor said, adding the new information to his own pitifully short notes.

"Hey guys!" Rachel greeted the group as she approached. She had just finished with her last class of the day, and had hurried to the Library to help with the search for information. She seemed to have developed a talent for research that was undoubtedly inherited from her mother, and didn't want to miss out on anything.

"Young lady!" came the sharp voice of Madam Pince from behind. "Kindly remember that you are in the Library and that others are trying to study!"

Connor shuddered slightly at the wheezy voice and Zack stifled a chuckle, not wanting to bring the ancient woman's wrath down upon him.

"I apologize Madam Pince," Rachel said sweetly. "I was just so excited to be here is all."

The old woman's expression softened slightly as she huffed, "Just don't let it happen again!"

"So what have you all found out?" Rachel whispered as she pulled up a chair.

"Not much," Connor admitted with a sigh. "Everyone needs to use this parchment to write down which books they've looked through, and then I guess we try again."

The five students disappeared into the stacks once more, and two hours later they were no further advanced in their research than before. Rachel had managed to unearth an old Ministry Floo directory from several years ago that listed the names of several Unspeakables, but there was apparently no Floo connection to that particular department. Connor groaned as they headed back to Gryffindor Tower to wash up for dinner; he had thought it would be a simple matter to find out about the Department of Mysteries, and not he was learning that it had been aptly named.

"I think I'll look into security at the Ministry tomorrow," Rachel said thoughtfully as Zack gave the password to the Fat Lady. "If the Department of Mysteries is so secret, they're bound to have loads of security, don't you think?"

"It sounds as good a place to start as any," Quentin said. "We have Quidditch practice tomorrow evening, so I don't know how much time Connor, Ivy and I are going to have to look tomorrow."

"Yeah," Ivy said as they prepared to mount their separate staircases. "And we can't neglect our homework to search, either. Thompson set us that essay, and we have Potions homework due on Wednesday as well; if we're going to have practice tomorrow night, that means that we need to get those done tonight before Astronomy."

With a sigh, the boys went up to their Dormitory and locked their school bags in their trunks with a clever little charm that Ivy had found for them. If anyone tried to open their trunks without the counter charm, they'd get a face full of smelly liquid, similar to that of Gobstones. There really wasn't much of a need for it since they had come back from their classes once to find the stench filling the room, and Andrew in the boy's showers scrubbing furiously at his skin; they believed that he'd learned his lesson. Still, it didn't hurt to be cautious, and so they continued to take security measures, just in case. Thinking about it as he lock and charmed his trunk, Connor sat on the edge of his bed and said, "You know, I think maybe we should lighten up on Andrew."

"I think maybe you hit your head harder than we thought today," Zack said incredulously, as he charmed his own trunk closed.

"What's up, Connor?" Quentin asked. "Why the change of heart after he made you bash your head on your own desk?"

"It's just that when Thompson sent me to the hospital wing today, I looked back at Tillman – you know – just to scare him a bit," Connor explained.

"That was the idea," Zack said, sinking to the edge of his own bed to hear his friend out.

"I know," Connor said. "But he didn't just look a bit scared, he looked _terrified_. I think that it really wasan accident in Charms. He might have been a bit of prat with the chair, but I think that he was really shaken when I actually got hurt."

"That might be true," Quentin conceded. "But that doesn't excuse all of the other mean stuff he's tried to pull."

"Yeah, but today was different," Connor insisted. "I don't want the poor guy to wet himself worrying over what we might do to him over this if it was an accident, and things have been getting a bit out of control lately with all of the charms and whatnot that we've been having to do just to feel safe in our own dorm."

"Okay," Quentin said, using the phrase his father often used with him when Quentin was trying to convince him of something. "So what do you propose?"

"A truce?" Connor said questioningly. "I'll let him know that there's no hard feelings about today, and see if he'll agree to a cease fire."

"Live and let live?" Zack asked skeptically.

"Exactly," Connor said. "Professor McGonagall said something to me a while back about Andrew having had a hard time over the summer holidays, and I think whatever happened to him changed something about him. He wasn't like this last year, even if he we didn't really get along with him. We don't have to go out of our way to be friendly; we just agree not to play pranks on him and vice versa."

"That sounds good to me," Quentin agreed. "I'll promise to lay off if he will."

"Count me in, too," Zack said after some thought. "But if he goes back on his word, we'll make him regret it."

"Deal," Connor said. "Now lets get down to dinner. I'm starving!"

They headed for the door to the dormitory, and Zack swung it open, only to have a huge bucket of icy water dumped on his head, making him shriek in surprise. Connor and Quentin laughed, and Zack growled at them as he quickly stripped off his sodden robes and jumper.

"Remember what we just decided!" Quentin teased as he tossed Zack a towel from the stack that was always by the washbasin by the window.

"Besides," Connor reasoned. "It was a bit too obvious, even for Andrew. It was probably one of my cousins."

They waited for Zack to change and then went down to the Great Hall to find that the enchanted ceiling was bringing them the news of the first snowfall of the year. Quentin groaned at the thought of Quidditch practice in the snow; his fingers had already felt like they were going to snap off at the last practice, when the temperatures had been at the freezing level. He had nearly wept for joy with Mariah had cast a heating charm on his gloves for him, and had vowed to learn to do that charm himself before the week was out. Connor, on the other hand, had seemed to revel in the colder weather, and had reminisced about family Quidditch games during the Christmas holidays where his uncles would enchant giant snowballs to be Bludgers. Even Ivy had admitted that she was looking forward to the snow, since there was little snowfall where she lived.

They spotted Ivy and Rachel at the far end of the Gryffindor table, and as luck would have it, Andrew was sitting not far from them, all by himself. They decided that they might as well approach the other boy sooner rather than later, where there were plenty of witnesses.

"Hey Andrew," Connor greeted the other boy casually.

Andrew automatically looked toward the head table to make sure that there were teachers nearby in case he needed to summon help. "What do you want?" he asked defensively.

"I just wanted to say that there are no hard feelings about today on my part," Connor said. "I mean I know you moved my chair on purpose, but I think that you meant for me to fall on my butt, not hit my head. No hard feelings." He held out his hand in a gesture of peace, but Andrew looked too wary to take it.

"I really wasn't trying to hurt you," he muttered reluctantly.

"I didn't think so," Connor said. "At least, not once I had a chance to think it over. Zack, Quint and I were talking it over, and we decided it would be in all of our best interest if we all call a truce."

"What kind of truce?" Andrew asked suspiciously.

"We promise not to play any pranks or be deliberately mean to you, and you promise the same. We don't touch each other's stuff, and we don't set booby traps or hex each other," Connor said bluntly.

"I'm not looking to be friends with you," Andrew said stiffly.

"That's fine," Quentin added. "We're not looking to be friends with you, either."

"We're not looking to be enemies either," Zack said. "But we should be able to share a room without having to check to see if our trunks are going to blow up or our beds are going to toss us out in the middle of the night."

"We just respect each other and all of our belongings, and can completely ignore each other besides?" Andrew clarified.

"Yes," Connor agreed as the others nodded.

"I can agree to that," Andrew nodded after a thoughtful pause.

Connor thrust his hand forward once again, and was relieved when Andrew shook it with only a moment's hesitation. As he was turning to join Ivy and Rachel, Andrew called to Connor and said quietly, "Sorry about your head."

Connor nodded and went to join his friends.

"Zack," Ivy said, and began to giggle as Connor sat down and began filling his plate. "What have you done to your hair?"

Connor glanced down the table and saw that most of his cousins, and many of the other Gryffindors were staring hard at their dinner plates, struggling to hold in their laughter. Looking up at Zack's head, he saw what the source of the amusement was. By now Rachel had burst out laughing, and Quentin was trying unsuccessfully to look concerned at Zack's normally dark brown and shaggy hair twisted itself into corkscrew curls all over his head.

"I'm guessing that it wasn't just water in that bucket," Connor said, trying to keep a straight face.

Quentin lost his composure at this statement, and buried his face in his arms on the table as he laughed. This only made the others laugh harder; while Zack raised a tentative hand to his head and felt what was going on. His face began to turn red with embarrassment, and Rachel handed him a small mirror from her pocket. As he surveyed what was happening to his head, the curls got longer and began to tumble down his back.

"Will somebody please do something about this?" Zack said in exasperation. By now the students at the other tables were laughing as well; Zack himself knew he would have been joining in if he weren't the butt of the joke, and cracked a smile even as everyone shrugged.

"I could braid it for you if you'd like," Rachel offered cheekily, causing fresh howls of mirth to erupt up and down the table.

"Very funny," Zack said, grinning in spite of himself. "Now how do I at least get it to quit growing?"

"Oh it'll stop on its own when it reaches waist length," came an amused voice from behind him, "Then it'll start to change color."

"Professor Lupin!" Ivy said with surprise. "You're the one who did this?"

"No," he smiled. "But I recognize the product. I would look for your culprit in whomever has access to the newest Weasley's Wizard Wheezed products if I were you."

"Can you fix it?" Zack asked him as he glared in the general direction of the Weasley family. He suspected Rachel was the guilty party as he watched her laugh as hair reached his waist. Everyone watching was waiting expectantly for the color changes to begin, and sure enough, there was a definite tinge of blue to Zack's hair that began to get more intense under their gaze.

"I probably could," Lupin said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "But you might end up with no hair at all."

Zack blanched that these words, making even Professor Lupin laugh out loud. "Of course, Professor Snape could probably clear it up in no time at all...."

"I think I'd rather be bald," Zack said miserably. It was clear that whomever had set up this joke was determined to make him endure it for a while, and so he sighed and turned back toward his plate. "Maybe I'll take you up on your offer to put it in a plait," he said to Rachel as the locks began to turn purple. "Unless of course you have the antidote handy?"

"Well," she said sweetly. "Since I was aiming for Connor anyway, I suppose I could help you out." She pulled a small vial from her pocket and handed it over to Zack.

"Hey!" Connor objected. "What do you mean you were aiming for me?"

Before Rachel could comment, Zack dipped his finger into the viscous liquid and dabbed some on his tongue, then made a slight choking sound and said, "This stuff is disgusting! It tastes like soap!"

"That because it is soap!" Rachel laughed. "You're supposed to wash your hair with it, not drink it! Uncle George says it will get rid of the color and the curl, but you'll have to have it cut afterward."

"Great," Zack muttered, and left the Great Hall to go and shower, with the laughter of the other students following him out. He was going to have to think of something good to repay Rachel for this one.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_What you see and hear depends a good deal on where you are standing; it  
also depends on what sort of person you are. - C. S. Lewis_

_   
  
_ Zack actually ended up liking his new hairstyle, once he got a seventh year girl to cut it for him. The older girls had seemed quite keen to get their hands on his hair, and Zack had been a bit apprehensive about letting them near it until one of the Prefects assured him that the girl in question was very skilled at haircuts. He had sat stiffly and nervously in the chair by the fire as she snipped away at his newly acquired hair. The long curls had gone straight once washed with the antidote shampoo, and brought the length down to the point where he could sit on the ends if he wasn't careful. He had also been relieved to see that it was no longer changing color, but was back to its normal dark brown.

He had been surprised when she had said that she was finished cutting; it wasn't nearly as short as he tended to wear it. She had left it long enough in the back to wear in a short ponytail, and had insisted that he leave it long for at least a week, and then if he didn't like it after that, she would cut it short again. From the appreciative looks some of the younger girls were giving him, Zack thought that it wasn't likely he'd be hunting her down at the end of that time.

The rest of the week passed without incident, with continued trips to the Library in their spare time. Andrew kept to his part of the bargain they had made, and pretty much ignored his roommates whenever they were in the same room. The other second year boys had begun to talk to him again once he began to show signs of mellowing out a little, and for the most part, things returned to they way they had been at the very beginning of the year. It wasn't until Thursday night, after Quidditch practice, that Connor, Zack and Rachel were all in the Library waiting for Ivy and Quentin to arrive that Connor made the decision to tell his friends about his meeting the next night with Madam MacTaggart. He waited until they were all seated together with books in front of them, even though after a week of searching they had pretty much given up hope that they would find any further information from the school library.

"Hey guys," Connor said quietly. "I know I said this before, but thanks for helping me look for this information."

"No problem," Ivy said, sensing that this wasn't all he had to say.

"Yeah," Zack said. "Even if we aren't finding what you want, I'm still learning loads."

"Well, I've been thinking," Connor said, glad that his friends weren't acting too put out. "I might have a better idea of where to look after tomorrow night."

"What's going to happen tomorrow night?" Quentin asked curiously. "I have to meet with a lady named Amelia MacTaggart," he answered. "She's the one who first told my parents what all the weird predictions I was making were all about when I was little. Now that I'm having these dreams, my parents are upset, thinking my abilities are growing or something, so they wrote to her."

"That makes sense," Ivy said approvingly. "If your abilities are changing, you should find out about it so you can know what to expect."

"But why would meeting with her give you a better idea of where to look for information?" Rachel asked. She had met Madam MacTaggart once a couple of years before, so this wasn't news to her.

"Because my Mum and Dad asked her to come because of my dreams," Connor said. "That means that they'll probably have told her more than they told me about why they're so concerned. I might be able to get information from her."

"It would be worth a try," Rachel conceded. "But you'll have to be careful not to sound too eager about it, or she'll get suspicious."

"Well I hope you can learn something," Quentin said with a sigh as he closed the book he'd been looking through. "Because we haven't learned anything new that we didn't find on the first day we started looking."

The others nodded, and they all decided that none of them were in the mood to work on the Department of Mysteries, and switched to the History of Magic essay that was due the following day. Connor pretended to be reading his History text, but his mind was on how he was going to find out more from Madam MacTaggart without giving away anything that she might pass along to his parents.

He was still pondering that subject as he made his way to Professor McGonagall's office the next night, and took the revolving staircase to find not only the Headmistress and his "guest," but also his parents, all sitting around a small round table enjoying a cup of tea. "Mum! Dad!" he said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Well we couldn't very well ask Madam MacTaggart to come without being here to greet her," his Mum answered easily, a hint of scolding in her voice at his lack of manners.

"Connor, how are you?" Madam MacTaggart stood and set down her cup and saucer. Her manner was as warm as he remembered from past visits, and her appearance had changed little from the first time he could remember ever seeing her. She came around the table and took his hand, which he shook politely, feeling more at ease now than he had before he'd reached the office.

"I'm fine, thank you," Connor greeted, as he knew his parents expected of him. "And you?" She chuckled before answering, "I'm just fine. I was interested to hear from your parents about your dreams, though, and thought we could have a little talk, if that's all right with you?"

"Sure," Connor said. It wasn't as though he really had a choice, but it wasn't a hardship, to sit and eat biscuits and sip tea, either. "Mum and Dad, too?"

"No, son," his dad said, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder. Your mum and I are going to visit Remus for a while until Madam MacTaggart is ready for us to come back."

"It's the full moon tomorrow," Connor said. "Are you sure he'll be up to visitors?"

"We're sure," he answered with a wry smile. "He knows we're coming."

"See you in a bit," his Mum added, and followed his Dad and the headmistress out.

"Would you like some tea?" Amelia smiled warmly at her young friend, and marveled at how much he'd grown since she'd seen him last.

"Yes, thank you," Connor said, taking the seat that she gestured to at the small table.

"Milk and sugar?" she asked.

"Please," Connor made himself comfortable, and took a ginger newt from the tin she offered him as she set his tea in front of him.

She asked him about his classes and his friends for a few minutes, and then gently turned the subject around to that of his dreams. "You parents say that you've been having some recurring dreams," she prompted. "They were a little rattled about it, I gather."

"Yeah," Connor said. "But they wouldn't tell me why. They said it was because the drams might mean my abilities are changing, but I don't believe them. They acted really weird when I told them about my dream."

"Well why don't you tell me about your dreams, and we'll see what we come up with," She answered kindly.

Connor explained the eerie quality of his dreams and described the urgent feeling of running out of time, and that someone was apparently supposed to arrive, though he didn't know who it was. He told her all about the round room with all of the doors and the blue light, and how the walls would spin when any of the doors were shut. He described the room with the benches and the small stage with the tattered curtain, and how his dream self had been sure that this room was not whatever it was that they were looking for.

Amelia MacTaggart listened to Connor's description without interruption, her expression impassive as she took in all of the facts. She was making a mental list of observations and questions as he talked, but did not want the boy to loose his train of thought because of any disruption from her. Once he had finished talking, he took a sip of tea and chose another biscuit from the tin while he waited for her to comment.

"Well, Connor," she said after a moment's consideration. "It seems that something is going on in your dreams, but I don't think that what you are seeing has anything to do with the future."

"You don't?" Connor asked. He was surprised to hear this, because in his dreams he always felt as sense of urgency that he often carried with him into his first few waking moments.

"No, I don't," she said thoughtfully. "I think that what you are seeing is the past."

"The past?"

"Your father's past, to be precise," she answered, tapping her lips as she put her thoughts in order in her mind.

"My father's?" Connor wished he could contribute something more intelligent to the conversation than just a repeat of her words.

"Yes indeed," she said. "The real questions here would be how and why." She stood poured herself another cup of tea and warmed Connor's cup to stall for time while her mind worked to place all the clues into a cohesive form. "Your father had an...adventure of his own in the place that you are seeing in your dreams when he was not much older than you are now."

"He did?" Connor asked, then thought silently, '_What was my father doing in the Department of Mysteries when he was my age?'_ Thoughts swirled in his head as he remembered the stories that his family had told about his father and the many instances when he met and battled the Dark Lord and his minions, and it suddenly hit home how young his father had really been when he had faced those dangers. He knew he had never been told about any adventures at the Department of Mysteries when the old stories were being relived through the memories of his aunts and uncles and parents.

"Connor," Amelia said kindly. "I had a long talk with your parents before you and I met tonight. They were concerned for you, and now that I've heard both sides of this quandary, I think I can set everyone's mind at ease. Would it be okay with you if I called your parents back, so that I can explain what I think is happening to all of you at once?"

"I guess so," Connor answered, trying to make sense of what Madam MacTaggart had just told him. He watched with mild interest as she waved her wand and sent a burst of light from the tip that sped out the door and out of sight. "I'm confused," he said as she sat down and waited for his parents. "I've never seen the past before."

"Actually, you have," she corrected gently. "You've predicted the birth of several of your cousins and also that of your youngest brother, Adam. While this might seem like you were only seeing the future, you were actually drawing on the knowledge of something that had already happened; you only predicted the births once the babies' mothers were already pregnant. Do you understand what I mean?"

Connor flushed a little as he realized what she meant, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I understand what you mean, but back then I just knew that stuff; this seems... different. It's not like what normally happens when the information is suddenly just there inside my mind."

She nodded, and said, "I think I have an explanation for that, but let's wait for your parents, shall we?"

Connor nodded and allowed her to turn the conversation toward his recent Quidditch game. It was almost a half an hour before his Mum and Dad arrived again, and Connor knew that they must have been visiting Professor Lupin at the Shrieking Shack for it to take them so long to arrive. They looked nervous as they came in and sat down on either side of their son, and both declined the offer of tea, though his Dad helped himself to a biscuit.

"All right, there, Con?" his Dad asked him quietly.

Connor nodded, not really sure what to say, and looked questioningly at Madam MacTaggart.

"Well," the lady in question began. "I can see that you're anxious for some answers. I must say, this is a very unique case for me, but I think that I can explain why Connor has been having the specific dreams that he has."

Connor glanced at his Mum, who seemed to relax somewhat at the promise of an answer to her questions, but his father was still sitting rather stiffly beside him, not eating the ginger newt that he had picked up when he'd first come in.

"Ginny, Harry," she said calmly. "I believe that Connor has been picking up on memories of a specific incident that occurred while you were both students at Hogwarts."

"You're referring to the battle at the Ministry in my fifth year?" Harry asked with a furrowed brow.

"Yes," she said kindly. "Is the memory of this event something that you have been revisiting more than usual lately?"

"Yes," Harry answered. "I was actually offered a position in the Auror division, training new recruits a few months ago, which I ended up turning down. I suppose that while considering the possibility of going back to work there, the old memories were brought rather forcefully to the surface."

Madam MacTaggart nodded as he answered, as if he was confirming her suspicions. "I think that there is combination of circumstances at work here that are causing Connor to act as a sort of antenna for residual emotions and memories. His especially strong receptivity to things the rest of us are normally unaware of is most likely making him like a sponge for strong emotional projection; a sort of empathic link."

"So why is he picking up on this particular event?" Connor had been wondering the same thing before his mother voiced the question.

"That's a good question. My best guess would be that having Connor coming to Hogwarts has triggered memories in both of your of your own school days here, and this one particular memory is one that stands out as particularly strong in your minds," Madam MacTaggart seemed to be trying to put her thoughts into words that they could all understand. "Add Harry's recent job offer to the mix, and add other combined factors, such as Harry's pronounced talent for Legilimency and Occlumency, and Connor's strong resemblance to his father in both looks and demeanor... I daresay that Connor may eventually exhibit a similar aptitude it those areas."

Connor sat quietly and let the questions and answers flow; as far a Connor was concerned, Madam MacTaggart had ceased to make any sense. His parents seemed to understand what she was talking about, though, and had a lot of questions about it. Finally, his Dad seemed to notice that Connor wasn't following along, and so he summarized. "So what you're saying," he said quietly, "Is that because Ginny and I have been thinking about the Department...about this particular event from our own schooldays a lot lately, Connor's particular talent makes him pick up on it and he ends up dreaming about it?"

"In a nutshell, yes," Amelia said simply.

"Wait a minute," Connor said suddenly. "If I'm dreaming about things that my parents did once, then why are my own friends there with me in my dream?"

"The best explanation I can offer for this is that when your father and mother were at this place, they had several of their companions with them. Because you didn't know who these companions were, your mind has filled in their identities with some that you are familiar with." She answered calmly.

Connor nodded at this, though in his mind, he thought that all of this just sounded wrong. Something about this theory just didn't feel like the right answer to what he was experiencing in his dreams. He decided that it would be worth the risk of upsetting his parents if he could get a real answer, and so he just went ahead and asked, "So what is this place I'm dreaming about, and what were you doing there when you were kids?"

All three of the adults looked at each other uneasily, and Madam MacTaggart wore an expression that plainly said that she would not make the decision of whether or not to give Connor the information he as asking for. Harry had been avoiding divulging this particular piece of information, as it brought back memories of one of the biggest mistakes he'd ever made in his life, and the very high price he'd paid for his foolishness. "It's a part of the Ministry of Magic," he answered finally. "I was lured there by Voldemort when I was in my fifth year here at Hogwarts, and I ended up leading my friends into a great deal of danger."

"But you were okay, right?" Connor said, alarmed by the undertone of sadness in his father's voice.

"I was rescued from my own folly," Harry said. "But my foolishness cost my Godfather is life."

"That's where Uncle Sirius died?" Connor was stunned at this bit of news as all of the adults nodded in confirmation. He had been raised with stories of 'Uncle' Sirius, and how brave and adventurous he had been. He knew that he'd been killed in a duel at the beginning of the war, but he had never dreamed, while he and his friends had been searching for information, that this was where he had met his demise. He wanted to ask more, and to demand the full story, but the sad expression in his father's eyes told him that now was not the time.

"So now we know why he's having these dreams, what do we do about them?" his Mum asked into the silence that followed the news about Sirius.

"You really shouldn't have to do anything about them unless they become a nuisance," Madam MacTaggart advised. "I think that now that Connor has an explanation and some information about what he's been seeing in his dreams, they will pretty much begin to diminish of their own accord."

"So we don't need to arrange for an Occlumency tutor?" Harry asked, wanting to be sure that he was doing everything that was necessary for his son.

"I don't think so," came the reply. "Learning Occlumency may help him to sleep with less interruption, and he may indeed show a talent for the practice of it, much the way that you did, Harry, but I think that can wait until he's older. I should think that these dreams will disappear on their own long before he could learn to practice Occlumency, anyway."

"But what if he picks up on other memories?" Harry persisted. "There are more than a few things floating around in my head that I wouldn't want anyone to have to witness; what's to prevent him from picking up on them?"

"Well I'm no expert in the area of Occlumency," Madam MacTaggart said. "But I think that if he's picking up these thoughts from you in particular, then it would be simpler for you to practice Occlumency yourself, to prevent the images from your from mind projecting over to Connor. It appears that these images are only coming to him during times of sleep, and I would be willing to venture a guess that you are asleep at the same time that he is dreaming these things. If you were to clear your mind before sleep, then Connor's mind should be clear as well."

"I must say that I'm relieved," Connor heard his mother say. He was still wrapped up in thoughts of everything he had learned in the past couple of hours. "I'm so glad that you were available to come and sort this all out for us. Harry and I were going mad with worry over it."

"Anytime," the older woman said warmly, accepting the hug that Ginny wrapped her in and shaking the hand that Harry offered. "And I think that Connor knows that he can contact me directly if he ever has any concerns or questions about his dreams or any other aspect of his precognitive talents"

Connor nodded in agreement, and stood as well. Maybe he was just picking up on his parent's thoughts, and the explanation felt wrong because it had never happened to him before this year. "Thank you Madam MacTaggart."

She smiled warmly and hugged him as she always did at the end of one of their sessions, then said with a hint of humor in her voice, "Good-night, Connor. Sweet dreams."

He smiled at her attempt at a joke, and then hugged his parents and said good-bye to them as well. "We'll see you at Christmas," his Mum said, hugging his once more before letting him go. "Stay out of trouble until then."


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

_Your future depends on many things, but mostly on you. --Frank Tyger_

Connor made his way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, lost in thought. While he was glad that his parent's minds had been put at ease, he couldn't shake the feeling that Madam MacTaggart's theory about his dreams wasn't the right one. He wished now that he had thought to ask his parents who was with them in the Department of Mysteries, but it was too late now. If he continued to ask questions about it, they would only be reminded of Uncle Sirius's death, and Connor wasn't keen to see the grief in his father's eyes again any time soon. His parents had also steadfastly avoided actually naming the Department of Mysteries, so he could not admit to them now that he knew about it at all. He yawned widely as he climbed the final staircase and headed for the portrait of the Fat Lady that covered the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. It was only coming up on ten o'clock, but it felt much later than that to him as he wondered if there was any point in having his friends continue to look for information about what he has seen in his dreams.

Connor knew that he would continue looking for information about it; he wanted to know more about the battle at the Ministry that his father had told him about. He might also have the chance to ask his aunts and uncles about it over the approaching Christmas holiday, but he would need to work out who to ask, and how to bring it up.

"Haversacking," he muttered to the portrait. It swung open to admit him, and he climbed through the hole to find his friends waiting up for him. Rachel was sitting closest to the fire reading a very old and battered copy of _Hogwarts, A History_, with Quentin half-dozing beside her with his potions book in his lap. Zack and Ivy were sprawled on the floor in front of the couch, playing a lazy game of chess and arguing over whether or not a Mandrake could be considered a beast instead of a plant.

"Connor!" Rachel said, looking up from her book and spotting him. "What did Madam MacTaggart have to say?"

Connor looked around to make sure that there wasn't anyone around who shouldn't hear about his meeting, but there we only a couple of his cousins at a nearby table, and a small cluster of first years playing exploding snap in the corner by the notice board. Quentin had perked up a bit, and scooted down to make room for Connor between himself and Rachel, glad that his bed to stay awake hadn't gone in vain. He had been considering going to bed and hearing about it in the morning, but Ivy had insisted that she was going to wait up, and so he had joined the others.

"Well," Connor said quietly. "It's kind of weird, but I guess it makes sense.'

Ivy and Zack abandoned their game and sat up so that they could hear without making Connor speak too loudly.

"When I got there, my parents were waiting with Madam MacTaggart, but they left when it was time for me to talk to her. I told her about my dreams, but I didn't tell her that I knew that I was dreaming about the Department of Mysteries…."

He told them everything that had transpired in the meeting, and Rachel gave a soft cry of dismay over the detail of Sirius Black being killed there. She, too, had been raised on stories of "the old days" from her aunts and uncles, and was as familiar with stories about him as she was of tales about her Grandfather Arthur. Connor nodded at her dismay, and told them all that they shouldn't feel obliged to continue looking for information if they didn't want to, but that he intended to find out as much as he could about the battle at the Ministry that his father had talked about. Rachel immediately volunteered to help, and said that she was as curious about it as he was, but urged him to continue with his account of the meeting. Everyone listened intently until Connor finished speaking, and then Quentin said, "So the dreams are really just memories?"

"That's what _they_ think," Connor said evasively.

"But you don't?" Zack asked shrewdly.

"I'm not sure," Connor admitted. "I don't get why my mind would absorb all that detail from my Dad, and then turn around and substitute his old friends' faces with _my_ friends. Something about it all just doesn't feel right."

"Well only you can know for sure, I guess," Ivy said. "But this woman is supposed to be an expert, right?"

"A leading expert in the field of Divination," Rachel supplied knowingly.

"But Connor picking up his Dad's thoughts isn't a form of Divination is it?" Zack asked. He was still unfamiliar with the exact definitions of a lot of the magical terms.

"I don't know," Connor said. "But if she's right, then the dreams should go away on their own. She told my dad to clear his mind before he goes to sleep, and that it should help keep me from dreaming about his memories."

"Maybe you should do the same," Quentin suggested. "Just clear your mind and relax before you fall asleep. I know my Dad likes to meditate in his office every evening; says it relaxes him."

"It's worth a try, I suppose," Connor said. "I'm going to head up to bed now; I'm practically falling asleep right now."

"Me too!" Quentin agreed around a huge jaw-cracking yawn.

They had all been huddled by the fire for over an hour, so they decided it was past time for all of them to go to bed. It was agreed that they meet in the Common Room before breakfast the next morning, and decide what they would do with their Saturday from there. Connor had vague thoughts of spending at least part of his weekend in the Library, if he could avoid Madam Pince and find a nice secluded table in the back of the stacks. He thought that it would be very hard to clear his mind tonight, but decided to give it a try, for his parents' sake. As curious as he was about the Department of Mysteries, he didn't know if he wanted to see his father's memory of his Godfather dying.

That night, it wasn't Connor that woke them all with shouting, but Andrew. Connor was jolted awake by the cry of, "Dad! Nooooo!" It took him a moment to realize that the sound had not come from his own throat, but from the far end of the room where Andrew slept. When the boy called out, "Don't do it! Come back!" he swung his legs over the side of his bed and flung open the drapes that he had drawn around his bed earlier in an attempt to block out any disruptions while he tried to clear his mind. Andrew's drapes were also drawn, but Quentin and Zack preferred to sleep with theirs open most nights, and they were both sitting up looking first at Connor, then at Andrew's bed.

"What's going on?" Zack asked sleepily.

"I think Andrew's having a nightmare," Connor said, standing and walking over to pull aside the drapes. The other boy was thrashing around, wrestling with his sheets, a sheen of sweat on his face visible in the light of the nearly full moon that shone brightly through the window beside the bed. His light brown hair, usually immaculately combed, was in wild disarray, and plastered to his damp forehead in places from his struggle. Connor tentatively reached down and shook the other boy's shoulder somewhat roughly, saying loudly, "Andrew! Wake up! It's only a dream!"

It actually took several more tries to rouse the other boy, and by that time, Quentin and Zack had also left their beds to see what the problem was.

"He looks like he's burning up," Zack Murmured to Quentin. "Maybe he's ill."

Before anyone could comment on that, Andrew's eyes shot open with a wild and desperate look in them, and the three boys all backed up a step. Connor walked over to the table against the wall and poured a tumbler full of water and brought it back, giving Andrew time to catch his breath.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly as he handed the water over. Andrew took the glass gratefully and gulped it down before taking a deep breath and nodding. "That must have been some nightmare."

"Yes," was the only answer he gave. He didn't meet the eyes of the other boys as he wiped at his sweaty face, and was thankful that none of them commented about the tears drying on his cheeks, if they saw them at all. He handed the glass back to Connor, who took it back to the little table, and then lay back down.

"If you're sure you're okay," Connor said.

"I'm fine. Thank you," Andrew said stiffly.

"Good night then," he responded, sharing a quick look with Zack and Quentin as he returned to his own bed.

In the morning, Andrew was gone when they woke, and the other boys agreed that they didn't need to mention the disturbance to the other boy again. They had agreed to be civil to each other after all, and Andrew hadn't seemed to want to talk about it. When they had dressed and gone down to the Common Room, they found Ivy standing in a chair behind Rachel, gathering her hair together in a complicated looking plait down the back of her head.

"You look a lot like my Mum," Connor decided as he looked at her from the front.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Rachel said with a smile. "What are we going to do today?"

"We're going to want to wait about fifteen minutes before we head down to breakfast," Connor said absently, picking up a copy of the Daily Prophet that someone had left lying on a nearby table. "Peeves is making a mess of the Ravenclaw table right now." All of his friends paused to look at him, but he didn't notice. He was staring at the newspaper without reading it, an idea forming in his head. "Rachel," he said suddenly. "Does the Hogwarts Library have back issues of newspapers?"

"How far back?" she asked with a frown.

"About twenty years back," he said. "To when my Dad would have been in his fifth year here."

Comprehension dawned on her face, and she said, "I'm not sure, but I'll bet we can find out quickly enough!"

Ivy quickly tied a bit of ribbon around the end of the plait, and the little group all headed for the portrait hole. When they got to the Library, they found that Madam Pince was not there yet, and so they all filed to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall was indeed seeing to the clean up of a huge mess at the Ravenclaw table, muttering about uncontrollable poltergeists the entire time. They took seats at the Gryffindor table and filled their plates.

"So what exactly are we going to look for if the school does happen to have twenty years worth of newspapers in storage?" Rachel asked.

"Well my dad mentioned a battle at the Ministry of Magic, so I would think that it would be a headline. I reckon we should look for anything that mentions a battle there, Sirius Black, or the Department of Mysteries." Connor said.

"So we're spending another day in the Library?" Ivy asked with interest.

"On a Saturday?" Quentin said with a groan.

"You guys don't have to help if you don't want to," Connor grinned at Quentin's less than enthusiastic response. "Why don't you and Zack go and put together a game of snow Quidditch? There must be at least six inches of new snow since last night."

It snowed last night?" Ivy asked, looking up at the gray sky overhead, reflected in the ceiling of the Great Hall.

"Yeah," Connor said. "It was really coming down at about four this morning when I got up to go to the loo."

"I think I'd rather spend the day in the Library," Quentin said, pouring a steaming cup of tea. "I hate being cold."

"Why don't you cast heating charms on your clothes?" Ivy asked.

"Because every time I try, I end up setting fire to what ever I'm trying to warm," he admitted through gritted teeth.

Rachel bit her lip and looked the other way, and Ivy giggled, but Zack said eagerly, "I can help you do it properly. You're probably just putting the stress on the wrong syllable of the incantation."

"Judging by the amount of snow out there, and more bound to be coming, you might want to take him up on that offer," Connor said.

Quentin nodded glumly, and changed the subject. "I saw Professor Snape walking around taking down the names of the students staying at school over the holidays."

"I think there are quite a few staying this year," Ivy said. "I know at least two of the second year Gryffindor girls are staying."

"I thought of staying," Quentin said. "Just to get a break from Vanessa. Mum and Dad wouldn't hear of it though."

"I wonder what it's like around here at Christmas," Zack said thoughtfully.

"My Dad says it's pretty fun," Connor said. "Or it used to be, when he went here."

"Well I'm not going to be finding out this year," Ivy said. "I already got a letter from my Mum, and my Aunt and Uncle are coming to stay and they want me to be there to entertain my little cousin."

"I couldn't imagine a Christmas away from home," Rachel said. "It's chaos most of the time, but it's a lot of fun."

Connor nodded enthusiastically in agreement, and asked Zack, "What are Muggle Christmases like?"

"I don't think they're much different than Wizarding ones," he shrugged. "My parents have never really made a big deal about Christmas. We usually go out to a restaurant for dinner, and that's about it." Connor and Rachel were looking at him in horror, and Ivy and Quentin were trying to disguise looks of pity as well. "What?" he asked quizzically.

"Please tell me that you at least get presents!" Rachel said sounding scandalized.

"Of course I do!" Zack laughed. "My parents aren't ogres for heaven's sake!"

"Listen, mate," Connor said, and idea forming in his head. "You don't know what you're missing. You should come home with me for Christmas! It'll be brilliant! There are more Weasleys than you could shake a stick at, and we all get together on Christmas Eve for a huge party."

"That sounds great," Zack said a little wistfully. "But I don't know if my parents would go for it. They're still not really sure about this whole Wizarding World yet."

"What if my parents Flooed them and asked them?" Connor asked, getting into the spirit of it now that he'd thought of it.

"Muggles, mate," Zack said with a chuckle. "No Floo."

"Well then my parents can owl your parents," Connor persisted. "What do you say?"

"Well I'd like to come, but I'm not going to hold my breath waiting for my parents to agree," Zack said doubtfully.

"I'll bet Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry would even go and meet your parents in person if we asked them to. They could just Apparate and introduce themselves and explain that you'd be in safe hands and all of that business that parents are always so worried about." Rachel added, determined that Zack would not be left to a miserable Christmas with dinner in some restaurant for his festivities.

"I'll write and ask them," Connor decided. He then looked at Quentin and Ivy, who looked slightly mollified that their friend had a chance for a Wizarding kind of holiday, instead of what he had described. "You two should ask your parents if you can Floo over for a day or two before we have to come back to school."

"I don't think my parents will let me out of their sight for that long, but I'll ask," Ivy said cheerfully. "My cousin is only six, and the last time she was here, she uprooted several very sensitive plants in one of the greenhouses. I thought Dad was going to faint when he saw what she'd done."

"If my father won't let me come," Quentin said with a smile, "I'll sneak out; at least for a few hours. I'll be ready for a break from Vanessa within the first day or two, anyway."

As if Professor Snape had heard them talking about it, the teacher appeared with a piece of parchment and a quill and asked, "Are any of you lot planning to stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas holiday?" They all shook their heads and watched him move to another group of students.

"Well," Connor said. "I'm going to head to the Library first and see what I can find, then I'm going to write to Mum and Dad to ask about Zack."

"I'll come with you," Rachel said.

The rest of the group decided to go back to Gryffindor Tower to put on their winter cloaks and prepare to go outside to play in the snow. No sooner had they all gotten out onto the grounds, than Connor and Rachel joined them, looking morose. "Madam Pince says that they only carry one year's worth of back issues of the Prophet, and if we want to read anything further back than that, we would have to write to the Daily Prophet Archive Division and request copies of specific dates," Rachel explained.

"Or we can go to the Archive building in person and look through them all," Connor added. "So we're out of luck there. I think our best bet will be to look for clues at home during our holidays, and hope that someone in the family kept a record of everything that happened back then."

"Grandma Molly has loads of boxes in her attic marked with all of her kid's names. We could snoop around in there while everyone's busy with decorating an such," Rachel said. "But until then, we might as well put it on hold. It's not like finding out about it is going change anything anyway."

Connor agreed, and the friends spent their day having snowball fights and enjoying the snow until they were too cold for even the warming charms to keep the chill out, and then trudged back up to Gryffindor tower exhausted and happy. There was only one more week of classes left until they were to go home, and everyone's mood was high.

It wasn't until dinnertime in the Great Hall that anything really eventful happened. A few owls, most likely delayed by the snowy weather, arrived with post for some of the students, including Andrew. Connor wasn't really paying much attention, though his room mate was sitting just a couple of seats away, and was as surprised as anyone when the other boy stood up with a letter in his hands and fury on his face. The barn owl that had delivered the letter was startled by the sudden movement, and took flight, but Andrew didn't seem to notice.

"Are you okay?" Ivy asked him warily from across the table, not liking the angry expression he wore.

"No, I am _not_ okay!" he said loudly. He turned to face Connor then, with a red face, and his hand crumpling that letter held tight in his fist. "This is all your father's fault, Potter!"

Connor barely had time to register that Andrew had had said that something was his _father's_ fault, and not _his,_ and that the other boy had had furious tears threatening to fall. He only stared open mouthed like the rest of the witnesses to his short tirade before Andrew ran from the Great Hall with many of the other students gaping after him.

"What was that all about?" he asked quietly, to no one in particular. His friends all shrugged, and looked concerned, but no one went after their housemate to find out.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_Sometimes dreams alter the course of an entire life. --Judith Duerk  
  
_ Connor finished his dinner with a strange sense of déjà vu. The scene that Andrew had caused, yelling out, "_This is all your father's fault_!" was like something out of a dream... in fact the more he thought about it, he realized it _was _from a dream. He had dreamt about Andrew saying just those words the night after he had overheard his parents talking about the Department of Mysteries. It had been the night that Quentin had woken him up. Strange. Still, the part of his dream in which Andrew had made his accusation or blame had seemed different from the part of dream about the round room and the rooms beyond. So what did that mean? The first part of his dream had been, what? A prediction? Precognition? And so the second part, according to Madam MacTaggart, was just projected memories from his father. Something just didn't feel right.  
  
"Hey Connor," Rachel said quietly. "Are you okay?"  
  
"I'm fine," he said. "Just thinking about a dream I had."  
  
"I was afraid that Andrew might have upset you," she said. "You've been really quiet since he stormed out."  
  
"Yeah," Ivy added. "I thought you guys had called a truce with him?"  
  
"We did," Connor said. "But something set him off."  
  
"Whatever it was, it must have had something to do with the letter he just got," Ivy said. "He just read it and then exploded."  
  
"Do you think I should try to talk to him about it?" Connor asked doubtfully. "He seems to think that my dad did something to him."  
  
"I wouldn't," Zack said flatly. "We may not be actively fighting with him anymore, but we're not exactly friends, either. If he wants to talk about it, he will. He's never had a problem speaking his mind before."  
  
"What do you think Quint?" Connor asked, noticing that his friend had been quiet through the discussion.  
  
Quentin shrugged his shoulders and said, "I agree with Zack. If he wants to talk about it, then fine, but if he's just going to yell because he didn't like what his letter had to say, I say let him be."  
  
"I suppose," Connor said. He still couldn't shake the feeling that having dreamed of Andrew's outburst before now held some sort of importance.  
  
When dinner was finished, they Gryffindors went back to their Common Room to work on homework or to relax before going to bed. Connor was drawn into a mini chess tournament, but ended up being eliminated after only three games, which was a relief to him. It was ten o'clock by the time that Rachel had beaten him in the last game, and he was beginning to feel sleepy. Quentin had now taken his place playing against Rachel, and Ivy was currently facing off against one of the sixth year prefects. Aiden had defeated Zack earlier, and so Zack and Connor sat watching the others play as they sat contentedly by the fire.  
  
"I wrote to my parents about letting you come for Christmas," Connor told the other boy quietly, so as not to disturb the players. "I gave them your parent's address and telephone number."  
  
"Your parents have a phone?" Zack asked in surprise.  
  
"No," Connor answered. "But we live near a little village that has a public one, and Dad knows how to use it."  
  
"They would probably be more comfortable with a phone call at first," Zack said, starting to feel hopeful that Connor's plan might work out after all. He honestly didn't mind going home for Christmas, but from what his friends described about their own holidays, he thought something might be a bit lacking in his own; he was eager to find out what it was.  
  
"Don't worry," Connor said confidently. "Dad can talk anyone into just about anything when he sets his mind to it."  
  
Zack yawned hugely, and Connor followed suit. They decided that they had had enough of watching chess, and bid their friends goodnight before heading up to the dormitory. Connor hoped he would have enough time to try to clear his mind and relax before sleep claimed him as he felt his eyelids getting heavy. Andrew's bed hangings were drawn, but from the sound of light snoring coming from within, he was fast asleep, so Connor turned to his own bed, peeling his covers back.  
  
"Hey," Zack whispered from the next bed. "What's this?"  
  
Connor looked over to see his friend picking up a crumpled piece of parchment from the floor near the foot of Andrew's bed. Zack smoothed out the paper and looked down at it, then looked up at Connor.  
  
"What is it?" he asked, careful to keep his voice low.  
  
Zack brought the paper over and sat on the edge of the bed, beside Connor who took what turned out to be a letter. Connor felt slightly guilty reading someone else's mail, but it had been tossed on the floor, and it was also very brief.  
  
_'Dear Andrew,  
  
Your father has been taken to St. Mungo's and will most likely be there through the Holidays. I think it is best if you stay at Hogwarts this Christmas. I will send your gift by owl.  
  
Love, Mum.'  
_  
"Blimey." It was all Connor could think to say. He had no idea that Andrew's father was in hospital, and there were no details in the letter, so Connor assumed that this had not been unexpected. He felt a lot more awake now than he had a moment ago.  
  
"What are you two looking at?" Quentin asked, coming into the room and sitting at the foot of Connor's bed.  
  
The two boys automatically gestured for Quentin to be quiet and then passed him the letter. He read the letter quickly, and then glanced over at Andrew's bed, where the deep even sounds of his snoring could be heard.  
  
"Why do you reckon his father's in St. Mungo's?" Zack asked.  
  
"If this is the letter he got at dinner tonight, why does he think that it's my father's fault?" Connor asked, even more confused.  
  
"Maybe he fell off of a broomstick that your father made?" Quentin suggested. "It's the only thing I can think of. It's not like your father goes around putting people in hospital on purpose."  
  
"Whatever the reason," Zack said. "He was mad enough to cause a scene at dinner and to leave his letter crumpled up on the floor where we could find it.  
  
"I don't know what's going on with him," Connor said. "But Professors McGonagall and Lupin were obviously worried about something that happened to him over the summer."  
  
"Think it was something big enough to make the Daily Prophet?" Zack asked with a raised eyebrow.  
  
Quentin groaned at the thought of taking up yet another extra research project, and said, "Do we really want to know about him that badly?"  
  
"Nah," Connor said. "I think that would be a little too much like spying. It's one thing if he wants to talk to us, but let's not get carried away. Professor Lupin said that he would try talking to him; let's leave him to it."  
  
"It's your call," Quentin said. "It's not my dad he's accusing."  
  
Zack crumpled up the parchment again, and put it back on the floor where he had found it; their truce with Andrew could very well come to a screeching halt if he ever discovered that they had read his mail. They all changed into their pyjamas and got ready for bed, and Connor closed his bed's hangings so that he could block out anything that might distract him. He slowly and deliberately took some deep breaths and tried to clear his mind and relax. He tried to visualize a blank piece of parchment, but found his mind beginning to wander, and so switch to thinking about a calming scene. His parents had taken his family on a holiday to the sea once, and Connor had found that the beach was a very peaceful place at sunrise, and so he invoked an image of the sea at dawn, and soon found himself drifting off to the rhythmic sound of remembered tides.  
  
"_What is this place?" Ivy's voice was right in his ear.  
  
Connor couldn't take his eyes from the strange room that they were standing in. There were clocks and hourglasses of all shapes and sizes on the every available surface. The sound of the gentle ticking was eerie as it echoed around the large room in an endless, uncoordinated symphony of sound; it was almost as if the room were whispering to him in an ancient, unknown language.  
  
"We made it in time," he heard Rachel's voice coming from right behind him. "She should be here in under two minutes."  
  
"What do we do when she shows up?" Zack sounded as if he were somewhere off to the right.  
  
"Let me think," Connor said to them all, feeling a sweat break out on his forehead. The clocks around him all showed the time of 2:54 on their faces.  
  
"Someone's coming!" Quentin hissed, sounding panicky.  
  
Connor could hear voices, and he spun around jerkily to see the door leading to the round room close of it's own accord, and the sudden rumbling told him that the walls inside were spinning again.  
  
"Connor!" Ivy's excited voice had him turning back to see a woman appear out of thin air into the middle of the room. She as wearing deep blue robes, and had light brown hair that was piled haphazardly atop her head, and she seemed startled to see them all looking at her. She seemed to be holding something, but Connor couldn't see what it was; he needed to move closer..."  
_  
Connor woke with a jolt, and sat straight up in his bed looking around wildly for whatever it was that had woken him. His mind was completely clear and alert, but he could find no source of disturbance that could explain why he had suddenly found himself thrown so abruptly from sleep. He put a hand to his face and found that his forehead was wet with perspiration, and that noted that his heart was beating faster than normally. He pushed his bed hangings apart long enough o grab his watch from the cabinet beside his bed, and grabbed his wand from beneath his pillow.  
  
"_Lumos_!" he muttered, looking around the enclosed area to make certain that there was nothing amiss that might have woken him, but found nothing out of the ordinary. '_Maybe my dad was sending me his memories again, and got woken up, making me wake up too_,' he thought. It made as much sense as anything else he could think of, and he wondered who the lady had been. Had she been a part of the battle that his Dad had talked about? He looked at his watch in the glow of his wand and saw that it was only 4:30 on a Sunday morning. He felt too alert to go back to sleep, and so he quietly got up and showered and dressed, intending to go to the Common Room and read for a while.  
  
The Common Room was deserted, as he had expected, and so he chose a seat by the fire. The house elves had obviously been in to clean, and the wood of the tables and chairs smelled of lemon oil. It made him a bit homesick. He began to read a book that Zack had lent him – a Muggle one that his friend had assured him was quite exciting – but had trouble understanding it. There were too many references to Muggle gadgets and devices to make much sense to Connor, and so he put it down again and just stared into the fire for a few minutes, thinking about his dream, until he heard someone descending the steps.  
  
"Andrew?" Connor was surprised to see his roommate up and about so early, even if he was still in his dressing gown. "You okay?  
  
Andrew sighed and came to sit across from Connor. "I'm fine."  
  
Connor looked at him skeptically; he didn't look fine, he looked terrible. There were dark circles around his eyes, and his eyes were red.  
  
"All right," Andrew admitted. "I'm a little rough around the edges right now. I... I wanted to apologize for blowing up at you at dinner last night. I got some bad news from home and I took it out on you. I'm sorry."  
  
"It's okay," Connor said. "Everyone has to blow off some steam every once in a while. Is everyone at home all right? You said you had bad news."  
  
"My father is... unwell," Andrew said carefully. "We thought that he was improving, but he had a sort of, er, relapse recently, and now he's been sent to St. Mungo's for treatment. I won't be able to go home for Christmas, because my mother will be spending all of her time at the hospital."  
  
"I'm sorry," Connor said quietly. He had not expected the other boy to be so forthcoming with information, and didn't want to spoil the moment. It only took a moment for the plan to form in his head, but Connor found himself suddenly saying, "Would you like to come home with me for Christmas?" He was sure his parents wouldn't object to him bringing two people home.  
  
Andrew gave a short, humorless laugh and said, "I'm not a charity case quite yet, Potter."  
  
"You'd be welcome," Connor tried again, feeling pity for the other boy. "Zack is going to be coming." _I think_.  
  
"One more reason to refuse," Andrew answered without much heat. "I'll be fine here. Thank you anyway."  
  
Connor nodded as Andrew stood and made his way back up the stairs, presumably to go back to bed, or maybe to get dressed. It was the grumbling of his stomach that had Connor getting to his feet himself and wondering if the house elves would have started breakfast yet. He was rarely up this early, and so had no idea how early it was acceptable to go to the Great Hall on Sundays. He climbed through the portrait hole and went in search of breakfast.  
  
The halls were still dark, since the sun was only now beginning to turn the horizon pale pink. The stones were cool from the chill outside; no amount of warming charms over the old castle could completely block out winter's icy grip. Connor shivered slightly as he made his way toward the general direction of the Great Hall, meandering down different corridors, enjoying the silence of the school before most of it's inhabitants were stirring.  
  
"Connor? What are you doing up so early?"  
  
Connor whirled on the spot to find Professor Lupin behind him, closer than he would have thought possible without being heard. "I woke up over an hour ago, and couldn't get back to sleep. I thought I might see if I could get breakfast now. How about you?"  
  
"A rough transformation this time," he said, falling into step with his young nephew. "I missed my last draught of Wolfsbane, and so I felt it a bit more keenly than usual." Connor looked concerned, and said, "You missed your potion?"  
  
"Not to worry, Connor," Lupin assured him wearily. "I only missed the last of several doses. I wasn't out running wild."  
  
Connor looked relieved. He had seen his Uncle in his transformed state before, though he had never witnessed the actual transformation into werewolf, and he knew that it was a very painful process, made more bearable by the potions he took before and after the full moon made its appearance. "Did you take your potions this morning yet?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," he said. "Very early, since I have to wait an hour before I can eat after taking it. I'm ready for my breakfast, too. Let's go see what we can find."  
  
Connor happily walked with is Uncle and was surprised when he was led not to the Great Hall, but to the portrait that led to the kitchens. The painting of a huge bowl of fruit hung over the entrance, and Lupin reached up and tickled the pear to unlock it. The portrait swung outward, and Connor followed his Uncle into the large room that closely mirrored the Great Hall with its four long tables. House Elves were scurrying about, each intent on performing their assigned chores, and Lupin smiled when an older female elf approached an bowed low.  
  
"Good morning Master Lupin," she greeted him cheerfully. "Your breakfast is all prepared, sir!"  
  
"Thank you, Rosy" Lupin replied warmly. "I have young Connor here to dine with me this time. Do you think you might be able to bring another place setting?"  
  
"Of course!" she beamed at him. "Right this way."  
  
Connor looked around at all of the activity in wonder. He had only ever come down here in between meals or late at night for a snack, when most of the work in the kitchens was done. He had never seen it bustling with this many Elves before, and it was quite a sight to behold. He followed Lupin and Rosy more slowly, trying not to get in the way, and finally came to sit across from his Uncle in a corner, away from all of the work in progress.  
  
Lupin was already pouring out tea into their cups, and smiling at the look on Connor's face. He remembered the first time he had visited the kitchens during one of the busiest times of the day, and relived it again through his nephew's eyes. Finally Connor's stomach growled noisily once more, and he turned his attention to the food that had been piled onto the small table in front of them.  
  
"So, Connor," Lupin said softly as he sipped his tea. "Have you been sleeping well? Had anymore dreams?"  
  
"Just one," Connor admitted. He found it frustrating sometimes that he had such a hard time lying to those he loved. "This morning, actually."  
  
Lupin remained calm, and his expression didn't change as he asked, "Was it the same as the others?"  
  
"Yes and no," Connor said, wondering how much he should say. He didn't really want his parents to find out that he was still having the dreams, since his father would likely blame himself. "It seemed to be a different part of the same dream. There was a woman there." Connor winced as Lupin's face hardened into a stony mask. "Do you know who she was?"  
  
Lupin nodded and said simply, "She was the one who killed Sirius."  
  
Connor was stunned for a moment and then, uneasy about the expression on his Uncle's face, rushed to reassure him, not paying heed to what his next words might reveal. "No! It wasn't Bellatrix Lastrange! It was someone else, I've seen pictures of Bellatrix Lastrange before and this wasn't her."  
  
Lupin regarded Connor thoughtfully for a moment silently, making Connor uncomfortable. He hated that he has brought such terrible memories to the surface, and wanted desperately to smooth things over. "I'm sorry, I never meant to...."  
  
"It's all right, Connor." The older man was holding up his hand in a gesture of quiet, and said, more to himself than to Connor, "If it wasn't Bellatrix Lastrange, then who could it have been?"  
  
"I don't know. Maybe you should ask my dad," Connor said. "They're supposed to his memories."  
  
"Yes," Lupin said. "That's what Madam MacTaggart said, but I was there that night – or at the end of that night. The only woman who was there at that time was Bellatrix, unless you count Samantha Tillman."  
  
"Did you say Tillman?" Connor asked in disbelief.  
  
Lupin broke from his thoughts and sighed, obviously regretting saying that last line aloud. "Yes, Connor. Samantha Tillman was Andrew Tillman's grandmother, who worked at the Ministry of Magic when your father and his friends went there. It is believed that she was the one who allowed the Death Eaters access to certain, otherwise inaccessible, parts of the Ministry that night. She disappeared at that time, and no one ever saw her alive again."  
  
Connor sat, eating his toast while he absorbed that bit of news.  
  
"Connor," Lupin said firmly, making sure that he had eye contact before speaking again. "Andrew is having a hard time this year. He doesn't need to know that you're aware of his grandmother's affiliation with Death Eaters twenty years ago. I expect you to use proper discretion with this knowledge, do you understand?"  
  
"I understand," Connor confirmed. "I actually spoke with Andrew this morning, and he told me that his father was unwell and had to go to St. Mungo's, so he has to stay here for Christmas. I asked him if he wanted to come home with me, but he said no."  
  
"You're a good boy, Connor." Lupin said with a sad smile. "You're a good boy."


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**  
  
_Keep your fears to yourself, but share your courage with others. - Robert Louis Stevenson  
_  
By the time Connor finished having breakfast with Professor Lupin, the sun had well and truly risen, and there were more than a few students out in the corridors and in the Great Hall. He spotted his friends at the far end of the Gryffindor table and went to sit with them, nursing a glass of pumpkin juice while they ate. He told them that he had spoken with Andrew and that the other boy had volunteered the information that they had already learned from his letter. Ivy and Rachel both showed signs of concern when they learned that the other boy's father was ill, and resolved to be nicer to him. Connor decided to wait to tell them about Andrew's grandmother until he could be sure that they would not be overheard. He knew that he could trust his friends not to say anything about it to anyone else, but he didn't want to risk anyone finding out from him by accident. Quentin was still given a hard time by many of the students in other houses because his grandfather had been a Death Eater; Andrew didn't need that kind of treatment if his father was really ill.  
  
After breakfast, Connor heard Andrew and one of the other second year boys saying that they were going to an empty classroom for an informal study group. Connor waited until they were out of earshot, and then said to his friends, "Let go up to my room. I have something to tell you, and I don't want to be overheard."  
  
They all nodded, and began to rise from the table when the post owls arrived. All eyes were cast upward and Connor was surprised to he his father's owl Hedwig among those making deliveries; Hedwig was rarely used for long distance deliveries anymore, as she was beginning to show signs of old age. Regular Snowy owls only tended to live about twenty-five years, and Hedwig was at least thirty; her magical powers seemed to be prolonging her life span. She circled once and then landed gracefully onto Connor's shoulder with a soft hoot of pride, then extended her leg to show that she had a tiny piece of parchment tied to it.  
  
"I'll get it," Rachel offered, reaching over to untie the note, while Connor fed her a bit of sausage from his plate.  
  
"Thanks Hedwig," Connor said softly, stroking her a few times. "If you need a rest, you can go to the Owlery for a while before going home."  
  
Hedwig gave a small hoot of indignation, and dug her talons a little deeper than necessary as she took flight again, making Connor laugh a bit before turning his attention to the note. It turned out that there were two pages, and so he set them side by side on the table in front of him and tapped each, muttering, "_engorgio_" to expand them to their original size. His father must have reduced the pages to make the burden easier on his beloved owl.  
  
"Hey Zack!" Connor said, "One of these is for you." He handed one of the pages to his friend and picked up his own letter and read it quickly with a broad smile. His parents had done it! They had convinced Mr. and Mrs. Ellis to allow Zack to spend the holidays with them!  
  
"Wow!" Zack said excitedly. "I can't believe your parents talked them into letting me come!"  
  
The others were excited for Zack, and they talked about their upcoming holidays as they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. When they got to the second year boy's dormitory, they all sat down on and around Connor's bed, and he told them about his dream, and about what he had learned from Professor Lupin.  
  
"Andrew's grandmother was a Death Eater?" Ivy asked in astonishment.  
  
"No, he didn't say that," Connor corrected. "He said that they thought that she helped them get into the Ministry of Magic, but he didn't say that she was a Death Eater herself."  
  
"She might have been a sympathizer," Quentin said quietly. "Like my own Grandmother. My dad's mum wasn't a Death Eater, but she supported them; I guess that there were a lot of people out there like that. My Dad told me that Voldemort didn't usually accept women into his circle of Death Eaters, and that their wives were expected to be held in check by their Death Eater husbands."  
  
Everyone was quiet at this announcement. Quentin didn't usually talk much about his family history, and so when he did, they were careful to be respectful of his feelings. Ivy shivered slightly at the thought of what it must have been like to be expected to serve a master of any kind.  
  
"This is all so confusing," Zack said. "There were his supporters, and they were called Death Eaters, and then there were supporters of the supporters?"  
  
"Something like that," Quentin said with a small smile. "Voldemort used fear as his biggest motivator and weapon, and it was pretty much a '_follow or be eliminated'_ type of situation then."  
  
"But Connor's dad beat him, right?" Zack asked, the only one in their group not to have been raised knowing some version of the story of Voldemort's defeat.  
  
"Right," Rachel said. "So the question is, why would Andrew think that it was Uncle Harry's fault that he has to stay here for the holidays, and what does that have to do with Andrew's grandmother being a supporter of the dark side?"  
  
"It might not have anything to do with it," Connor said. "It might be as simple as it sounds. His father might really be too ill for Andrew to go home."  
  
"Connor," Rachel said suddenly. "You told Professor Lupin about the woman in your dream, right?"  
  
"That's what I just finished telling you," Connor said, irritated more by the fact that yet another mystery seemed to be unfolding for him than the fact that his cousin apparently wasn't listening properly. "That's how I found out that Andrew's grandmother...."  
  
"Yes, yes," Rachel interrupted impatiently. "It's just that, if the woman you saw wasn't Bellatrix Lastrange, but Samantha Tillman instead, what does that say about your dream? If your parents never ran into Andrew's grandmother while they were there, then how could you be dreaming about it?"  
  
"I understand what you're saying," Quentin said when Connor looked quizzical. "If your Dad doesn't have any memories of Samantha Tillman, then he couldn't be projecting them to you."  
  
"They'd have to be coming from somewhere else," Ivy finished, catching on to their line of thinking.  
  
"And if Professor Lupin comes to the same conclusion," Connor said.  
  
"Which is likely," Rachel added.  
  
"Then I'm right back at square one," Connor finished. "My parents will have Madam MacTaggart back up here faster than lightning."  
  
"Well we don't really know the whole story of what your father remembers from that night," Quentin said comfortingly. "Maybe he did run into Mrs. Tillman, and you just don't know it... Professor Lupin already knew about her, didn't he?"  
  
"Yes," Connor said. "But he also said that he didn't arrive at the Ministry until the end of that night. If Mrs. Tillman was the one who got them inside the Department of Mysteries, wouldn't she have disappeared before he got there?"  
  
"This is giving me a headache," Zack said. "If she disappeared, where did she go?"  
  
"Professor Lupin just said that no one ever saw her alive again," Connor said thoughtfully. "I reckon she must be dead."  
  
"That's a strange way of wording it, though, isn't it?" Rachel said. "Why not just say that she was dead?"  
  
None of them had an answer to that question, and the meeting came to a speedy close when they heard footsteps on the stairs approaching the boy's dormitory. They were slightly surprised to see Professor Lupin turn into the room, and all looked up at him slightly guiltily.  
  
"What are you all up to?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
"We were just playing...."Connor couldn't come up with anything to finish that thought, though, and groaned inwardly when Ivy and Rachel spoke at the same time.  
  
"Truth or Dare," Rachel said.  
"Spin the bottle," Ivy answered.  
  
Professor Lupin raised his eyebrows in amusement and waited to see how they would explain themselves now.  
  
"We were playing truth or dare," Rachel said calmly, "And I had just dared Ivy to play spin the bottle with Aiden."  
  
Ivy blushed to the roots of her hair, and Zack and Connor laughed outright.  
  
"You're not playing it with Magically binding rules, are you?" Lupin asked warningly, though it was hard to tell if he really believed them. "That's been against the rules at Hogwarts since Sirius forced James to... never mind. That story is hardly appropriate and will only give you ideas." He waggled his eyebrows at them with a grin, chuckling at their collective groan of disappointment. "I was actually looking for Andrew."  
  
"I heard him telling Michael Hughes that they were going to be having a study group in the empty Charms classroom," Connor supplied.  
  
"Thank you," Lupin said, and then stopped on his way out. "And stay out of trouble."

  
  
The rest of the week went by in a blur of activity as the castle was decorated for the coming holiday, and the students prepared to go home. The mood around the school was festive, and the teachers bemoaned the fact that none of the students were concentrating on their classwork, while secretly looking forward to the coming break themselves.  
  
Connor had not had any more dreams since talking to Professor Lupin, and he had not received any owls about it from home. He was hopeful that Lupin had not mentioned anything to his parents, and that Madam MacTaggart would not be called upon to pay him another visit. Instead he focused on the fact that Zack was coming home with him the next day, and was busily making plans for everything he wanted to do over their break. Their last class of the day was History of Magic, and as Binns droned on about boring historical figures, the second year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were all either in a stupor or else passing notes back and forth to each other. Connor was scribbling idly on his parchment instead of taking notes, and was surprised when the door to the classroom opened and Professor McGonagall stepped in an interrupted the lesson.  
  
"Students," she began after apologizing to Binns for the interruption. "I have here the schedule for departures for students who will be going home for the Christmas holidays. The schedule will also be posted on all Common Room notice boards, so there will be no excuses for tardiness. You will arrive in the Great Hall fifteen minutes before your scheduled departure time with all of your belongings. Do not leave anything necessary behind, as you will not be able to return for it until after the holidays. The Floo Network will be attached to the school by the fire in the Great Hall only, and it will be set up for departures only. If you miss your scheduled departure time, you will be placed at the end of the list. You will all be returning on the Hogwarts Express on January third. Are there any questions?"  
  
A hand in the back of the room went up and a Ravenclaw girl with dark curly hair asked timidly, "How will the Muggleborn students whose parents don't have the Floo Network get home?"  
  
Professor McGonagall's expression softened a bit at the anxiety on the girls face and answered, "A letter has already been sent to the homes of those students without the Floo Network. The Network will be connected to those homes for the day where possible, and those students with homes without a fireplace will travel by portkey. The students in need of portkeys will be given separate instructions by their head of house this evening."  
  
After Professor McGonagall had passed out the schedules and left the room, Zack leaned over toward Connor and said, "Now that I think of it, my parents were a bit freaked out to see me stepping out of an enormous green fire last year. Maybe their decision to let me come home with you was partly because they didn't want to see that again."  
  
Connor grinned at him, and Quentin, who was sitting behind him, snorted with laughter. Zack thought that maybe he would ask his friends to come to visit him for few days this summer, so they could see what Muggle living was really like. It would be interesting to see who was more affected by the different cultures, her parents or his friends.  
  
When class let out, they all consulted their schedules, and found that Ivy would be leaving first, at 9:35 a.m., and then it would be Quentin (who was to go right before his sister) at 9:58 a.m. Connor noted that his parents must have let someone know that Zack was going home with him, as they both had the departure time of 10:13 a.m. Rachel was not scheduled to be leaving until after lunch with the rest of the Weasleys, but from what the schedule read, the entire departing student body would have cleared out by two o'clock in the afternoon, if everything went on the smooth schedule of roughly three departures per minute.  
  
They all went back up to Gryffindor Tower pack their belongings, and the boys noted that Andrew had not come back to their room with they did so. Connor felt bad for the other boy, but didn't see how he could make him feel any better about his situation, and so he decided to leave the boy a small Christmas gift (a rather nice quill he had brought to school with him, but had never used) and hoped for the best. Once everyone was packed they went down to the Great hall for dinner and talked about how they were going to go about getting together over the break from school. The room was noisier than usual, filled with the enthusiasm of hundreds of students sharing a last meal for a whole fortnight.  
  
"Are you all going to be going to Diagon Alley before Christmas?" Ivy asked the group.  
  
"I know I am," Quentin said. "My mum mentioned something about Christmas shopping in her last letter."  
  
"My parents will take me, as well," Ivy nodded.  
  
"I could talk someone into bring us," Connor said, gesturing to himself, Zack and Rachel. "Whomever finds out they're going first should owl everyone else, and maybe we can all meet up. I don't think Zack's ever seen Uncle Fred and George's joke shop, and I have a ton of gifts to get, so I don't think it'll be too hard to convince someone to let us come."  
  
They agreed on this plan of action, and then spent half of the night awake in the Common Room talking, too excited about going home to get much sleep. Even Andrew made an appearance and was seen talking to the other second year boys over in a corner, seemingly without a care in the world. When everyone finally went to bed, they were all too tired for dreams.  
  
In the morning, the prefects directed students on where to take their trunks in anticipation of the morning's departures. The long house tables in the Great Hall had been push a little closer together than was usual, in order to make room before the large fireplace as students lined up in the order in which they were to Floo home. They said good-bye to Ivy after they finished their breakfast, and watched while she stepped up to the fire, and took a pinch of Floo powder from the jar that Professor Flitwick offered her. She stepped into the flames, pulled her trunk in after her and said loudly and clearly, "Longbottom Estate in West Cornwall!" They had a last glimpse of her closing her eyes tightly and taking a deep breath before the green flames rose to obscure her, and she was gone. No sooner had the flames died down, than another student was stepping into to space that Ivy had just vacated.  
  
Connor, Rachel, Zack and Quentin went into the large entryway of the school to wait the few minutes until it was time for Quentin to take his place in line. It was crowded with students saying good-bye and rummaging around for last minute things, and so they simply stood in a cluster beside Quentin's trunk. Unfortunately, a smiling Vanessa soon approached, and directed a large seventh year boy wearing the Slytherin colors to put her trunk beside Quentin's. Once the older boy had gone, Vanessa's smile evaporated and she turned to hiss at Connor.  
  
"You may have the rest of this school convinced that you're something special," she said with venom. "But I know that you're nothing but a freak, and I'm going to make sure that every single last person in this school knows it before the end."  
  
"You can try," Connor said, facing her down with his own glare. "But you won't come out of it without a label of your own."  
  
"Quentin," Professor Lupin's voice called across the Entrance Hall from end of the line of students waiting to leave the school. "Ms. Malfoy. It's time for you to join the queue."  
  
"See you," Quentin said gloomily, dragging his trunk forward.  
  
A few other students were called forward, and then Professor Lupin called Connor and Zack forward as well. In less time than they had thought, they were at the grate, and Connor stepped into the flames and held onto his trunk tightly before throwing down the pinch of powder and calling out, "Potter Headquarters, Warwickshire!"  
  
Zack watched as Connor disappeared in a whirl of green flame, and swallowed hard. He had only traveled by Floo powder once before, and had been sick on the living room carpet when he'd arrived at home. He hadn't revealed that tidbit of information to his friends, but now he was afraid he was about to humiliate himself in front of the entire Potter family.  
  
"Zack," Professor Lupin smiled kindly. "You're next."  
  
Zack nodded and stepped forward, dragging his trunk upright beside him, and took a pinch of the powder.  
  
"You'll have a great time with Connor," Lupin told him with a wink, perhaps sensing his unease.  
  
Zack merely nodded again and threw down the powder, repeating the words that Connor had spoken only moments earlier, and then he, too, was gone.


	15. Chapter 14

_Thanks to all of you who have reviewed! Here is the latest, hot off of my hard drive. I fisnished this up last night and am already working on Chapter 15. Please keep reviewing and letting me know you're still there!_

**Chapter 14**

_Three things cannot long be hidden the sun, the moon, and the truth. - Confucius_

Zack threw down his pinch of Floo powder and shouted out the words that he had heard Connor shout only moments before, "Potter Headquarters, Warwickshire!"

He began to spin and screwed his eyes up tight and held his breath as he turned faster and faster, feeling the hot ash whirling around him. It seemed an age until he felt himself slowing, and flailed wildly for a moment as he came to a jarring stop and stumbled over his trunk, only to be caught and steadied by strong hands. He could feel a soft brush attacking his clothes, and a lot of shouting before he opened his eyes to see Mr. Potter grinning at him while Mrs. Potter was wielding a soft brush to rid his cloak of excess soot. Connor stood a few feet away, grinning at him as his younger brothers and sister clamored for his attention.

"Welcome to Potter Headquarters!" Connor said happily.

The kids that had been clamoring for Connor's attention now turned to Zack and appraised him for a moment. They took in his straight dark brown hair and hazel eyes and surmised that this was not a new family member to be met, and then the only girl in the lot stepped forward and said, "I'm Lucy and I'm nine. That's Ian, my twin, but I'm older by seven and a half minutes. The little one there is Adam and he's five."

Zack smiled as she made the introductions solemnly. Lucy looked like a miniature female version of Connor, only with brown eyes, but he was reminded of their cousin Rachel in mannerisms. Ian had the trademark red Weasley hair (also with brown eyes), and a mischievous smile that Zack had seen more than once on many of the Weasley kids at school. Five year old Adam also had red hair, and a sprinkling of freckles across his nose, but the eyes that looked back at Zack were a sparkling green as he stepped forward and shoved a custard colored ball of fur into the new visitor's hands.

The youngest Potter then took a deep breath and said, "This is Pit- Pat and he's a Puffskein and he likes to hum and he eats bogies and moths and he was a present from my Uncle George when I turned five and I love him!"

Zack what holding the warm little creature carefully, and was about to make a polite comment about the little boy's pet, but didn't get a chance. It seemed that the pause in Adam's speech was only so that he could draw another long breath of air before launching into speech again. "Lucy said that Muggles don't have pets like Pit-Pat and that they only have cats and dogs for pets and that they only live for about half as long as Wizarding cats and dogs do. We have a cat named Quigley and another Puffskein named Sweetie and they don't like each other very much. One time Quigley tried to eat Sweetie and Dan and Mum had to chase Quigley all over the house and Dad kept saying, '_will someone catch that damned cat_?' and them Mum yelled at Dad for swearing and then..."

Zack was just thinking to himself, '_Where's the off switch on this kid_?' when Mrs. Potter stepped forward and simply clamped a hand over the boy's mouth.

"Welcome, Zack," she said warmly. "I'll let you decide if you'd like to share a room with Connor, or if you'd like to stay in the guest room."

Behind her, Zack could see Connor gesturing frantically, mouthing the words, "_My room! My room!"_

"I'll share with Connor," he said firmly.

Connor's dad smirked at his sons' antics, ruffling Adam's hair as he hefted Zack's trunk over to the stairs and set it down. "Everyone who's going to work with me needs to get their cloaks on!" he called, chuckling as the twins and Adam scrambled toward the back of the house. He began levitating the two trunks up the stairs with his wand while his youngest children prepared to leave.

"Your dad is taking the kids today so that you can show Zack around and get settled in without them underfoot." Mrs. Potter said to Connor.

"Cool," Connor grinned. "Come on Zack, I'll show you my room!"

Zack was only partially listening, though, because once the other kids had left the room, he had finally gotten a chance to take in his surroundings, and was looking around with his mouth hanging open. There were pictures of people all over the walls, most of which were obviously family photos, and most of which were of the Wizarding variety wherein the subjects of the photos moved occasionally. None of the furniture seemed to match, and had obviously been chosen for comfort and durability over style, with lots of brightly colored pillows and throws scattered over the chairs and couches. There was no television, and so all of the furniture faced the center of the room, where there was a large low table scattered with books, magazines and toys as the focus of the room. There were broomsticks in various stages of completion hovering of their own accord in glass fronted cases along one wall, and bits and scraps of parchment tacked to the walls here and there with drawings, scribbles and notes about broom designs and manufacturing. The large windows to the outside showed a panoramic view of countryside as for as the eye could see, giving the impression that this house was situated at the top of a gentle hill.

"Zack! Come on!" Connor called from the bottom of the stairs.

Zack reluctantly tore his eyes from a set of knitting needles working some blue wool into a jumper, and followed his friend up two flights of stairs and down a hallway. "You definitely didn't want to be in the guest room," Connor was saying as they entered his room. "It's all flowery and has this creepy picture in there that our House Elf painted of my dad years and years ago."

Zack had barely had time to register the words "House Elf" when an extremely ugly bald child in an oversized purple jumper, denim jeans and orange and green mismatched socks came into the room and threw his arms around his friend.

"Master Connor! You is home!"

"Hi Dobby!" Connor greeted happily, "Miss me?"

"I did, Sir, yes!" came the enthusiastic reply.

"Dobby, this is my friend Zack. He's staying for the holidays." Connor said by way of introduction. "Zack, this is Dobby, the best House Elf in the whole world!"

"It's nice to meet you?" Zack ventured, holding out his hand uncertainly. He knew that Hogwarts had several House Elves in residence, but he'd never really looked very closely at them, and had never heard of them dressing the way this one did.

Dobby shook his hand eagerly, and said, "I is glad to meet you as well, Master Zack! I must be getting back to my baking now, sirs!" With a loud crack, he was gone, leaving Zack to stare open mouthed at he space where the Elf had only just been standing.

Connor didn't seem to think that there was anything odd in the interaction with the Elf, and so Zack simply shrugged it off and looked around. Connor had a typical boy's room, with posters of Quidditch and popular Wizarding bands adorning his walls.

"Is that your Mum?" Zack asked in amazement as he studied a poster for the Holyhead Harpies, who were wearing robes of dark green with a yellow talon on the chest. All of the players were women, and Ginny Potter's name was signed with a flourish under her photo.

"Yeah, that's her," Connor said with a grin. "She only played with them for two seasons."

"Why?"

"She got pregnant with me!" he said cheerfully. "She says it was a good trade-off. Come on, lets get changed and I'll show your around."

The boys changed out of their school uniforms and into warm winter clothes, and then went back downstairs as Connor kept up a running commentary on the rooms they passed. "That door goes up to the attic. That's Ian's room, and that one's Lucy's... she booby-traps her room, so don't ever go in with out knocking. Adam's room is down here next to the guest room, and at then end there is my parent's room." They reached the ground floor, and were back in the living area where they had come out of the Floo. "This is the family room," Connor continued. "And these cabinets are where my dad keeps all of his projects that he's always working on. We're not allowed to open them without permission. Through here is the kitchen."

They stepped into a large, homey room with another large fireplace, a huge stove where a pot was stirring itself, and lots of pots and pans hanging from racks on the ceiling. The smell of baking bread was making Zack's mouth water, and he was grateful when Connor walked straight to a tin and produced several chocolate chip biscuits for them to eat on the rest of the tour. "Kitchen table's there, where we usually eat," Connor gestured to a table that could easily seat eight. "And that door there goes down to the basement, where my dad's office and workshop are. That door just goes outside." They walked down a hallway with several doorways leading off of it, and Zack began to wonder just how big this house was. There seemed to be three bedrooms and a bath on each of the two top floors, and the ground floor seemed to sprawl in all directions. He got a glimpse of each room as they passed, if the door was open, but Connor didn't stop especially long at any of them. "That door there is Dobby's room, and over through that one is the dining room, for when important company or lots of family comes for meals. Bathroom. This one is my Mum's quiet room; it's got a sound muffling charm on it, and she comes here to get away from the rest of us and read or whatever. Over here is the parlor." Connor drew out the last word for an extra syllable in a haughty tone. "We're not allowed in here unless we have death wish. It's only for very important occasions and receiving very important guests." It was obvious from Connor's tone what he thought of the importance of anyone who might visit, and Zack grinned.

"Come on, let's go outside so I can show you the school and stuff," Connor urged, heading for the door straight ahead.

"I left my cloak upstairs," Zack said, eyeing the bare trees outside of the frosted windows.

"Oh don't worry, there's always plenty of extras lying around," Connor said, swinging open a closet door and rummaging around. He produced two cloaks around the right size for them and then threw open the door and went outside.

Zack hurried out after him, still fastening the borrowed cloak, and looked around to see the outside of the house. He laughed in astonishment to see that from the outside, the Potter's home looked to be a small cottage-style home with only two floors. He turned to see Connor heading toward a small building that resembled a barn, but with windows, and followed him.

"This is where I went to school before Hogwarts," Connor said, pulling the door in the side open and walking in. "Mum and Aunt Susan run it now, and most of the students are Potters or Weasleys, though there are couple of other Wizarding families that send their kids. The room in front of them was like a one-room classroom, decorated not unlike many of the Muggle schoolrooms that Zack had been in, except for the large fireplace against the back wall. The sign above read: 'Stand back away from the fire, and remember to speak clearly!' He supposed this was how the students arrived and departed from the school each day of classes. A quick count told him that there was twenty desks of varying size lined up neatly, and faced a larger desk at the front of the room.

"Uncle Percy!" Connor said. "What are you doing here?"

A tall man with thinning red hair and square framed glasses turned from where he had been crouched in front of a low bookcase. "Hello, Connor! I thought you lot weren't due to get home until after lunch."

"I got through earlier," Connor said. "This is my friend Zack Ellis. He's staying for Christmas!"

"It's nice to meet you Zack. Are you related to the Edinburgh Ellis family?" Percy asked kindly.

"No sir," he said. "I'm Muggleborn."

"I see," Percy said. "Well that doesn't mean you might not be related somewhere down the line." He picked up a box from the floor and set it on a nearby countertop. "I'm just collecting these books for Susan. She wants to go through them before the next term starts and make sure that nothing needs repairing. How is school going?"

"Not bad," Connor said.

"Anymore trouble with that Tillman boy?" he asked with concern. Nothing family related ever stayed a secret for long among the Potter and Weasley families.

"No," Connor said thoughtfully, "We called a truce. I actually tried to convince him to come home with me for the holiday as well. He got a letter from his Mum just before end of term, telling him to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. His dad is in St. Mungo's I guess."

"Yes, he is," Percy nodded sympathetically. "Poor man. I suppose Mrs. Tillman didn't want her son to see his father in that condition. The Closed Ward is no place for children to be visiting, in my opinion. Still, it's better than visiting him in Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" Connor asked in astonishment, "Why? What did he do, Uncle Percy?"

Percy sighed and motioned for the boys to sit as he, too, took a seat. "Kenneth Tillman is... not mentally stable," he began in a serious tone. "He got word this past summer that his mother's ghost was spotted in a restricted area of the Ministry of Magic where she used to work. His mother disappeared about twenty years ago, and was rumored to be a supporter of You-Know-Who, but her son has always maintained her innocence. He claimed that something terrible must have happened to her, and that Death Eaters must have abducted her, but the Ministry's investigation found that one of the Death Eaters that they caught on the night that Samantha Tillman disappeared confirmed that she was indeed an associate of his. She was never seen again after that night. She had been working that night, and since there was no sign of forced entry other than some stunned guards, it was believed that she had helped them gain entrance and led the Death Eaters to the place within the Ministry that they were looking for."

"What does that have to do with Andrew's dad being in St. Mungo's?" Connor asked quietly. It wasn't like his Uncle Percy to be so talkative about such things.

"Kenneth Tillman was a Seventh Year student when his mother disappeared. He was two years younger than me, and I vaguely remember him. I worked at the Ministry at that time, and was privy to some of the information from the investigation before Cornelius Fudge was unseated at Minister. He came very close to having a breakdown that year, poor boy, and wouldn't accept the evidence. Ever since then he's never given up trying to prove her innocence, and when he heard that her ghost had been spotted at the Ministry, well... he went there to try to see her for himself."

"But she was seen in a restricted area," Connor said, more to himself than to his Uncle.

Zack sat quietly, absorbing this new information, and tried to be as invisible as possible so that Connor's uncle would continue his tale.

"Yes," Percy said sadly. "He was caught in a highly restricted area, throwing items of a very sensitive nature around and screaming for his mother to make an appearance. He was arrested on the spot, and when the full story came out, he was sent to St. Mungo's. They kept hem there for a couple of months, and he began to show improvement, but he recently had a relapse and was caught sneaking around the same area he had been caught in before."

Both boys were silent at this bit of news. Andrew's poor behavior seemed to make a lot more sense now that they knew what he had been dealing with at home.

"I told you boys this, because I want you to understand that your classmate has a lot of things of a personal nature to deal with, and that it would be the decent thing to do to give him the space he needs. I wouldn't be surprised if he was a very troubled boy, indeed." Percy said quietly, sure that he had gotten his point across when they both nodded. "Right then!" his mood changed from solemn to jovial as he stood and levitated the box of books. "I was told that there was some cinnamon bread in the oven with my name on it once I finished here." He ushered the boys out of the schoolroom and headed for the house.

"C'mon" Connor said, gesturing for Zack to follow him. They walked around the side of the house, and toward the edge of the property to the base of an enormous tree, and Connor pointed out the ladder that hung down from the branches, and Zack followed him up until they were in a huge tree house that looked out over the garden of "Potter Headquarters" and it's surrounding land. The tree house had not been visible from the ground, even though the tree itself was bare of foliage for the winter, and Zack supposed it must have been charmed.

"This place is amazing!" Zack said.

"Yeah," Connor agreed. "I can't imagine living anyplace else. So.... That was quite a story from Uncle Percy, huh?"

"Yeah," Zack said. "It makes me feel guilty about how mean I've been to him."

"You haven't been that mean," Connor assured his friend. "You didn't know what his problem was, and he dished out as much as he got."

"I suppose," Zack agreed. "I feel a bit guilty, too," Connor admitted after a moment's silence.

He showed Zack around the tree house and then suggested that they go have lunch, and they were just finishing thick slices of pie when the Floo roared to life and Lucy, Ian and Adam came in, all talking a mile a minute. Zack was welcomed into the warm embrace of the Potter family so naturally, that he marveled that he had only been there for one day when he and Connor bid the rest of the family goodnight. His own parents tended to be much more formal, especially at mealtimes, and the clutter that was as much a part of the Potter home as the furniture would never have been tolerated at his own home. Zack was enjoying it very much, but found himself cringing a bit when various family members shouted up the stairs or into the basement to have simple conversations. Connor's dad seemed to notice his occasional apprehension and simply winked at him from his seat in the family room and said quietly, but with good humor, "You'll get used to us."  
  
The boys found that one of Connor's parents had been in to add another bed to the room, making Connor's bed into a set of bunk beds, and that both of their trunks had been carefully unpacked, with Zack's clothing folded neatly into the expanded dresser. The two boys talked late into the night until Mrs. Potter poked her head into the room and threatened them with a silencing charm if they didn't quiet down. Zack finally settled down to sleep with a smile on his face, and the uncertainty that he had been carrying about whether would really want to live in the Wizarding world after Hogwarts had evaporated.


	16. Chapter 15

****

_Thank you all for your encouraging comments and critisms. I really appreciate every single one! I just finished this chapter about five minutes ago, ans I haven't started chapter 16 yet, so it may take a few days before the next update. Don't worry... I've got the whole story in my head and an outline on paper, so it shouldn't take too long!_

__

_-Amy_

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** Chapter 15**

_The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes. -Marcel Proust_

Over the next few and it seemed that visitors were constantly coming and going through the fire as well as the front door. It gave Zack a turn the first time he had seen someone Apparate into the front garden and walk to the front door; he had never really seen anyone travel that way before. Mr. Potter seemed to be the busiest person Zack had ever met, with different people coming to visit him at home, asking about brooms that were to be Christmas gifts for loved ones, or else he was hurrying off to work and back again several times a day.

The second day of his visit was an exciting one, when Zack had woken up to find that the house had been decorated for Christmas, seemingly while he slept. Connor had woken him up in the morning, already dressed and urging Zack to get u p and get going.

"Ivy just Flooed and said she's going to Diagon Alley today to do her Christmas Shopping today after lunch. Dad says that he'll take us too, and let us go off on our own for an hour or two. I tried to Floo Quint, but Vanessa was there, and pretended like she didn't see or hear me in the fire. I'm going to try to get Dad or Mum to Floo them in a few minutes."

Zack sat up and rubbed his eyes, trying to take in everything that Connor was saying, and then swung his legs over the edge of the bed, only just realizing in time that he was five feet above the floor. He stumbled into the shower, and then joined the rest of the family for breakfast, marveling at the garland and fairy lights (with real fairies) everywhere, and an enormous tree in the family room framed by the picture window. He listened to the Potter family discuss their upcoming day as they worked their way through stacks of toast, and mounds of bacon and eggs.

"So Zack," Connor's dad said to him from across the table. "Connor says that the two of you want to meet up with some friends in Diagon Alley today."

"Yes sir, if it wouldn't' be too much trouble for you," Zack said, much in the same way he would address his own father. Connor snorted at his formal behavior, and earned a playful smack in the back of his head from his mother for it.

"I don't have a problem taking you, I have to meet with some people at Quality Quidditch Supplies anyway," Harry replied with a smile. "We can leave in an hour."

"Hey," Connor said suddenly. "I don't think Zack has any Wizarding money."

"I've got some Muggle money," Zack said. "But I don't suppose the shops in Diagon Alley accept it."

"When Ginny and I met with your parents last week," Harry said, "they gave us some spending money to give to you. I went and had it converted to Wizarding money, so you don't have to go through the hassle at Gringotts." He pulled a small bag from his pocket and tossed it over to their houseguest, and added, "Connor will have a good idea of what fair prices are for most things, but if you have trouble with figuring the conversion into pounds, just let me know."

"Thank you, sir." Zack pocketed the money and then looked toward the family room, where the fire had just roared to life with green flame.

Rachel Weasley stepped into the room, followed closely by a younger girl with bushy brown hair and then another girl with straight brown hair.

"Hi Connor! Hi Zack!" Rachel called as she came into the kitchen and snagged a slice of toast from a plate and bit in.

The two other girls ran in and hugged Mrs. Potter with cries of, "Aunt Ginny!" Their aunt duly hugged the newcomers, and then Lucy, Ian and Adam all stood and disappeared with the younger girls.

"My sisters," Rachel said at Zack's confused look. "Gwen and Prue. Gwen's the same age as Lucy and Ian and Prue and Adam were born on the same day."

"Don't try to remember everyone's names," Connor advised. "There's just too many of us, and you'll probably meet them all before we go back to Hogwarts."

The front door opened just then, and a tall red haired man stepped in carrying a long thin package and announced, "I think it's going to snow today."

"Hey Ron," Mr. Potter said. "We've got that meeting with Sedgwick in an hour; did you bring the prototype?"

"Got it right here," the man smiled, patting the package in his arms. He came into the kitchen and set the package down, then picked up a piece of bacon and began to munch on it thoughtfully. He spotted Zack sitting at the table and said, "You must be Zack."

"Yes sir," Zack said, relatively sure of whom this man was.

"I'm Ron Weasley, Rachel's dad. I've heard a lot about you," Ron said in a friendly tone.

"I'm very pleased to meet you Mr. Weasley," Zack returned, standing to shake his hand. "All of the kids at school talk about you all the time."

"Polite one, isn't he?" Ron said to Harry with a raised brow, shaking hands.

"We're hoping he'll rub off on the others," Harry said easily, winking at a blushing Zack.

"If it works, can you send him over to my house later?" Ron wanted to know.

"Ron, don't embarrass Connor's friend," Ginny said, rolling his eyes as her brother sat down at the table and began to fill a plate. "Didn't Hermione feed you before you left?"

"Yes," Ron answered around a mouthful of eggs. "So?"

"Mum says that Dad is hollow," Rachel told Zack as they left the table. "He can eat all day long and never gains an ounce."

An hour (and a couple of Floo calls) later Zack, Rachel and Connor were all standing in the Leaky Cauldron, waiting for Ivy and Quentin to arrive. They didn't have long to wait for Ivy, who appeared with her father, a round-faced man with a weatherworn face, hair a shade lighter than his daughter's and a pleasant expression.

"Neville!" Ron and Harry greeted the other man, clapping him on the back. "How's the exotic plant business going this days?"

The adults all stood talking to each other for a few moments, before Harry checked his watch and said that they would be late for their meeting if they didn't head out. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a small pouch; similar to the one he had given Zack earlier and handed it to Connor, admonishing him to use it to buy Christmas gifts. Rachel's father gave her some money as well, and then they set off, agreeing to meet back at the Leaky Cauldron in three hours. Ivy introduced her father to Zack, though Mr. Longbottom had already met Connor and Rachel on many different occasions. He gave Ivy instructions to stay away from Knockturn Alley, and to be back at the appointed time, and then went out into Diagon Alley to take care of some errands of his own. It was only a few minutes later that Quentin appeared, with his mother in tow, and after introductions were made once again, the five friends made their way out to do some exploring and shopping.

They visited Flourish and Blotts first to buy a few Christmas gifts, and then went to a sweetshop, a specialty quill shop, and a toy store before ending up at number 93, Weasleys Wizard Wheezes.

"A word of warning," Rachel said to her friends before she pulled the door open. "Do not eat anything they offer you unless you know what it is."

"As a matter of fact," Connor said with a grin. "Don't do anything they tell you to do unless you know what will happen first."

Zack was looking apprehensive at this, and Ivy and Quentin looked excited. Rachel pulled the door open and they were greeted by the sound of maniacal laughter as they stepped into the most popular joke shop in Great Britain. It was crowded with holiday shoppers, but that didn't detract from the overall sense of fun that the shop emitted as they looked around, wide eyed. Ivy giggled as a sprig of enchanted Mistletoe floated over to Connor and floated above his head, and a grandmotherly looking witch approached him from behind and bent and kissed him on the cheek

"Grandma!" Connor said, once he was over the surprise of being unexpectedly kissed. He turned and hugged her, and then relinquished her to Rachel, who also wanted a hug.

Molly Weasley was helping out in the store that week, to ease the workload for her sons during the busy holidays. Her hair was mostly gray, with hardly any red left in it at all, and she was merry and festive looking in chocolate colored robes with tiny gingerbread men embroidered over the surface of them. She fussed over Connor and Rachel, and then gave them all lollies from her pocket. She smiled when Zack balked at taking one of her sweets and said in a stage whisper, "Don't worry, I bought these at the sweetshop, I didn't get them here!"

They wandered the store, gathering up items now and then for purchase, and Zack looked up in amazement as a stocky red haired man hopped up onto a counter and began juggling bottles filled with a blue liquid one handed. The reason that he was juggling one handed, Zack noted, was because he only had one arm.

"That's Uncle George," Rachel said, seeing Zack watching. "He and Uncle Fred own the place."

"Ladies and gentleman!" George called out to the store's patrons. "Today we are releasing a new product!" He caught each of the bottles as he stopped juggling, and set two of them on the counter by his feet, while prying the third open with his teeth. He sat down on the counter beside the unopened bottles, set the open one next to them, and then reached in and withdrew a stick with a hoop on the end from the blue liquid. He took a deep breath and blew through the hoop, producing a bright blue bubble that hovered across the room for a moment before popping and emitting a rather loud, rude belching sound. There were a smattering of giggles and a general show of approval amongst those watching, and George proudly announced, "Belching Bubbles! A steal at only seven sickles a bottle!"

"Brilliant!" Quentin breathed excitedly. "I can't wait to try them on Vanessa! They'll drive her absolutely out of her mind!"

"My Mum would faint if I ever blew one of those in the house!" Zack said appreciatively. He noted that Connor already had two bottles of it in his shopping basket, and grinned. He had a feeling that Mr. and Mrs. Potter would find them funny while trying to look disapproving.

Connor pulled his friends over to introduce them to his Uncles, just as Fred came out of the back room with another crate of the Belching Bubbles. They seemed curious about Quentin Malfoy, but were friendly enough as they demonstrated an item similar to their famous Canary Creams, which turned the consumer into a giant warthog for a few moments.

"Haven't thought of a name for them yet," George said. "And they wear off a bit faster than we would like."

"Can I try one?" Ivy asked eagerly.

The Twins looked at her in surprise, and then happily served her a thin, square shaped biscuit that looked as though it were an ordinary, small oatmeal biscuit. The others looked at her expectantly and she bravely popped the entire thing in her mouth, chewed and swallowed. After a moment she said, "I don't feel any different," and then, _pop_! A rather large warthog stood before them, making them all laugh out loud before there was another _pop_, and Ivy was restored to her normal state.

"I'll take half a dozen," Quentin said immediately, once he stopped laughing. "In a plain wrapper if you have it."

"A man after our own hearts," George smiled, bagging them up.

"How about Warthog Wafers?" Ivy suggested with a chuckle at her brief transformation.

"Brilliant!" Fred was delighted enough with the simple name to give her a dozen of them for free.

"Hey Zack," Connor called from the end of the counter. "Does your dad have a sense of humor?" He was holding up a jar of something called '_Bearding Balm_' with an evil grin.

"I don't think he's got _that_ big of one," Zack said ruefully, examining the jar. It appeared that all you had to do was to apply a thin layer to any area of bare skin and inch-long fur would grow in that area until washed away with ordinary soap and water. He added it to his basket, wondering how long he would be grounded for after he used it. "Mum'll go spare when I show up at the breakfast table with a beard, but it'll be worth it."

Once their shopping was done, and Connor and Rachel were weighed down with several 'samples' from their uncle's joke shop, they all went to Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlor and shivered as they ate chocolate and peppermint ice cream, and Connor and Zack told them what they had learned about Andrew's father.

"That's so sad!" Ivy said tearfully. "Imagine your mother just disappearing, and having everyone say all of those awful things about her!"

The others nodded.

"So if I _am_ dreaming about Andrew's grandmother," Connor said. "The question to ask would be _why_? Am I supposed to be getting a message out of it? Does it have something to do with the future or something that happened to my Dad the night she disappeared?"

"Well I did a little snooping at home yesterday," Rachel said. And I found a box full of old newspapers and clippings from about twenty years ago, but I can't read them. They've been reduced so that they're really tiny, and I can't use magic outside of school to enlarge them."

"So how do you know that they're from twenty years ago?" Zack asked.

"Because I can just make out the headlines of a couple, and they're about Cornelius Fudge being asked to resign as Minister of Magic. That happened when Mum and Dad were in their sixth year at Hogwarts. I didn't get a chance to look at many of the others, because Gwen came snooping around." Rachel answered.

"Do you think your Mum would notice if that box was gone when you go back to school?" Connor asked. "Can you smuggle it out and bring it back to Hogwarts?"

"The box was a bit dusty, so it probably hasn't been taken out in a while," Rachel said. "But I'd better not risk taking the whole box. I'll put all of the papers into a sack or something and bring them back that way. Then if Mum looks under the bed for any reason, the box will still be there, it'll just be empty."

"Okay," Connor said. "But better not risk taking them until just before we leave. We'll have to think up some sort of diversion so you can sneak back to get them."

"Until then," Rachel said. "We should all keep an ear out for any information about the Department of Mysteries. It is kind of looking like Connor's not getting these dreams from his dad."

"Or at least not _just_ from my Dad," Connor said.

They finished their ice cream and noted that it was time to go back and meet their parents as the first few flakes of snow began to fall. They made plans to try to get together once more before going back to school, then one by one, traveled back home by the Floo.

"Tomorrow's Christmas Eve," Connor said as they came out of the fire and headed up to his room with their purchases. "The whole family will be going to Grandma Molly's for dinner. We should be able to snoop around in the attic without anyone noticing. If they ask what we're doing up there, we can just say that we're wrapping presents or something."

"Okay," Zack answered. "Do you think it would be okay to use your family's owl to send a present to my parents?"

"Sure," Connor said. "We've got three, because my dad is always sending something out. If it's not too big, you could use Hedwig. What did you get them?"

"I got Dad a quill and a silver inkpot, since he seemed interested in my quills over the summer, and I got Mum some sweets since she really likes fancy chocolates." He answered, pulling the gifts that he's had the store clerks wrap.

"That might be a bit much for Hedwig," Connor said. "Your parents wouldn't be able to enlarge anything, so we couldn't shrink it."

"How about if you use this one?"

Connor's dad was standing in the doorway of the room, holding a large cage with a beautiful tawny owl on its perch.

"Did you get a new owl, Dad?" Connor asked, admiring the bird.

"No, Zack did," came the answer. "Your parents asked me to pick one out for you as their Christmas gift to you. I hope you like it."

"It's," Zack found he has to swallow a lump in this throat as he took the cage that Mr. Potter was handing to him. "It's mine?"

"He's yours," Harry corrected with a grin. "I was going to wait until Christmas morning, but I thought you might like to use him before then."

"Thank you so much!" Zack breathed, staring at the bird that was staring back at him.

"Don't thank me," he said. "Thank your parents."

"I will!" Zack immediately got a sheet of parchment and a quill out and wrote a note to his parents. "I'm naming him Godric. It may not be very original, but I've really wanted an owl ever since I found out I was a Wizard, and thought that if I ever got one, that's what I would name it."

"That's a fine name," Harry said, "And it looks as though he likes it, too." Godric hopped eagerly onto Zack's wrist and nipped softly at his fingers when his new owner asked him if he liked his name. Harry showed him how to secure the package for his parents to the bird's legs, and gave his instructions on how to send it. Zack watched happily as the bird spread it's wings and disappeared into the weak sunlight that was filtering through the clouds that had yet to unburden themselves of their snow.

"This is already the best Christmas I ever had, and its not even Christmas yet!" Zack said happily, making Connor and his Dad grin.


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

_High sprits they had: gravity they flouted. — Cecil Day Lewis_

_  
_ Connor and Zack woke on the morning of Christmas Eve to the sounds of Christmas music playing somewhere downstairs, and the smell of fresh gingerbread on the air. The clouds that had been a steely gray were still hanging over the countryside, but the ground outside told them that they had not delivered much snow during the night. Connor groaned and turned over, pulling the duvet up over his head in an attempt to get back to sleep; he had dreamed of the clock room again during the night, but it hadn't progressed any further than it had before. Zack however, woke excited, and showered and dressed quickly, and went down to the kitchen in hopes of having a square of gingerbread with his breakfast. The music didn't get louder as he traveled down the stairs, and he guessed that it had been charmed to be the same volumes all over the house.  
  
"Good morning, Zack," Mrs. Potter greeted him warmly. "Is Connor still in bed?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am," he answered cheerfully. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was already half-nine. "I'd probably still be asleep, too, but the smell of gingerbread coaxed me out." He smiled hopefully at her, and was rewarded with a laugh.  
  
"I think we can scare some up for you," she said. "Have a seat."  
  
Zack sat at the table across from Adam, who had a Puffskein on the table beside his bowl of porridge. "Good morning, Adam," he said to the younger boy. "Is that Pit-pat you've got there?"  
  
Adam looked up at Zack, took an audible deep breath, and began to talk. "Good morning Zack. This one is Sweetie. I had Pit-Pat out earlier, but he likes to be in his cage in the morning. Sweetie likes to be out during the day and she likes to play under the couch where Quigley can't get her. You were asleep a long time. Mum says that you boys must have stayed up for half the night talking and that's why you were so tired and that I shouldn't wake you because you're on your holidays and you're a guest, and you don't need a little boy climbing all over you too early. I wanted to wake you up because Dad says we can go out on brooms today once everyone is ready, and that means you and Connor because everyone else has been awake for ages." The little boy took another deep breath and launched into another long speech, but luckily, Connor's dad came along and distracted him. "Dad! Zack's awake now, but Connor's still asleep and I want to go out on the brooms, but you said that we can't until everyone's ready, and Connor can't be ready if he's asleep, so can I go and wake him up and make him get ready so we can go?"  
  
"Sure, son," Harry said with an indulgent smile. "Why don't you go wake him up?"  
  
Zack got the distinct feeling that Connor's dad had only given his permission for Adam to go and wake him so that he'd quit talking. Mrs. Potter set a steaming bowl of porridge in front of him, and a fat square of gingerbread that had been dusted with powdered sugar, and Zack dug in.  
  
"Hey!" Harry said. "I didn't get any gingerbread with my porridge!" He grinned when his wife rolled her eyes and levitated a piece over to the table in front of him. "Excellent! You're good luck, Zack! She said she wasn't going to cut this stuff until later today!"  
  
Zack grinned back and took a large bite. "Don't you have work today, Mr. Potter?"  
  
"Not really," he answered, summoning the milk bottle with a wave of his hand. He didn't notice Zack's stunned look as he witnessed him using wandless magic so effortlessly. He had the bottle raised to halfway to his lips when his wife made a warning noise in her throat, and he summoned a glass as well. "There will probably be a few people coming today to pick up special orders, but I don't have to go in to work unless there's an emergency. I thought we could all go out and spend some time in the air. Do you like to fly?"  
  
"I love it," Zack said at once, immediately distracted. "Though I'm not very good at it."  
  
"He's loads better than he was a couple of months ago," Connor said with a yawn, sitting down at the table sloppily dressed, and with hair even messier than usual. "We've been practicing with him before Quidditch practice a couple of times a week."  
  
"I don't have a broom," Zack said. "I've been using one of the school brooms."  
  
Connor's dad winced at that bit of information, and said, "We've got plenty of brooms about; we'll find a good one for you to use today. The school brooms are okay, but I think that you'll find that a better made broom is easier to ride."  
  
"And there's no broom made better than a Dog Star broom, right Dad?" Lucy said, coming down the stairs with her long black hair in a slightly lumpy ponytail.  
  
"That's right, honey," her Dad grinned, putting and arm around her.  
  
"Sir," Zack asked politely. "Why did you name your company Dog Star?"  
  
"It was named after my Godfather, Sirius," came the easy reply. "He was killed during the war, and we thought it would be a fitting tribute."  
  
"I'm sorry," Zack said, looking at his plate. He remembered Rachel and Connor talking about their "Uncle Sirius" before, but had not connected him to the name of their fathers' broomstick business.  
  
"Don't be," Harry said gently. "It's been nearly twenty years since he died. I think he'd be proud to have it named for him. Now! If you two will finish your breakfast, I'll go hunt up a broom for Zack to ride."  
  
He left the room, and Connor noticed that Zack looked worried. "Don't worry, mate. Dad likes talking about Uncle Sirius; you didn't say anything wrong,"  
  
"Hey Mum!" Ian came skidding into the room. "Are you coming flying with us?"  
  
"I don't know," she said with a frown. "I have a lot to do around here still, and..."  
  
"Please?" All three Potter children begged at once.  
  
"Oh, all right. I haven't been out in a while. It would be nice," she relented. "Where's Adam?"  
  
"Oh, Connor left him tied to the banister," Ian said unconcernedly.  
  
Zack almost spit his milk across the table at this casual announcement, but Connor just shrugged and said in his defense, "I warned him, and he still shoved that stupid Puffskein down the back of my shirt."  
  
"Connor," his Mum said with a long-suffering sigh. "How many times have we told you not to tie your brother up?"  
  
"I don't know; fifty three? He could've called for help," Connor said to her retreating back, as she went to free her youngest. "I didn't gag him or anything."  
  
"No," Lucy grinned impishly. "That was me."  
  
"Excellent!" Connor grinned at her.  
  
A moment later, Adam came into the room, glaring at them all, but his mood only lasted a few seconds as his father came out of the basement carrying several broomsticks. The kids all cheered, and raced to get cloaks and gloves, and soon they were all outside waiting for permission to launch into the air. Zack watched curiously as Mrs. Potter charmed a tether of sorts from Adam's small broomstick to his ankle, and then let him take off into the air.  
  
"That's to keep him from falling," she told Zack. "If he slips off his broom for any reason, and tension is put on the tether, the broom will automatically pull up against his weight and then gently bring him to the ground."  
  
"Maybe I should have one of those," he grinned.  
  
"I think you'll be safe," she ruffled his hair affectionately, much the way she did to her own children, and then called to her husband to bring their guest a broom.  
  
"This is just a Daytripper," Harry told Zack as he presented him with a broom. "It's one of our leisure model prototypes with a few... modifications. Normally it would be used strictly for traveling, but this one will do a few tricks for you and has a bit better maneuverability. We originally designed it for Connor's grandmother, but she prefers to Apparate, so we started adding extra features to it to make it more appealing to the younger consumer. It's also charmed to be very stable, so you won't be able to fall off unless you're really trying."  
  
Zack took the offered broom with polite thanks and kicked off into the air. He couldn't believe the difference in the feel of this broom in comparison to the school's brooms. Everything about it was much smoother and more comfortable, and he soon found himself making bolder moves than he might have done at school. He allowed himself to be drawn into a makeshift game that the kids simply called, "Copy Me!" and was enjoying it immensely.  
  
Connor watched as Zack executed a clumsy, but successful loop in the air, laughing at the expression of deepest concentration on his friend's face as did so. He was glad that he had invited him to spend Christmas with his family, and couldn't wait to see how he would react to being surrounded by two-dozen or more Weasleys tonight. He was pulled from his thoughts about the delights of Christmas Eve when Ian suddenly called out, "Ew! They're doing it again!"  
  
He wheeled around on his broom as saw that his parents were floating about twenty feet off the ground, kissing each other. Again.  
  
"They do that all the time," he said at Zack's surprised expression; he had the feeling that Zack's parents didn't behave this way in front of him. He wondered what it would be like to have parents as strict as his friend's seemed to be, and decided that he was a very lucky kid, indeed.  
  
Both of his parents gave Zack some pointers in flying, and the family spent a happy two hours out on their brooms before they landed and trooped back inside. Ginny told the boy that she wouldn't be surprised if he was good enough to try out for the Quidditch team next year with a bit more practice. Connor thought that she might be right; all he really needed was the confidence, and they could work on that for the rest of the school year.  
  
No sooner had Connor's dad put all of the brooms away than one of the people he had told Zack about earlier arrived to pick up a broom. He and his customer disappeared into the basement talking about 'final adjustments'. Connor's mother went to the kitchen to find that Dobby had already prepared a good portion of the dishes that she had been intending to make to take to dinner that night, and he had cleaned up the kitchen as well.  
  
"Dobby," she scolded lightly. "We told you that you can have the today and tomorrow off! I thought you were going to go to Hogwarts and visit with some friends."  
  
"I is going now, Mrs. Ginny!" he squeaked. "I just wanted to make sure that..."  
  
"Everything here will be fine. Go!" she said firmly. The little elf nodded and returned to his room, and then they heard a sharp crack a few moments later that told them that he had gone.  
  
Zack wondered why he and Conner seemed to be just hanging around, until Mrs. Potter turned to them and said, "All right dears, I'm going over to the Burrow now, and I'll be back in about an hour to give you lunch. Keep an eye on the other kids while I'm gone, Connor; your dad is probably going to be busy for a while."  
  
"Okay, Mum," Connor said easily.  
  
She gathered up the dishes and baked goods that Dobby had prepared and packed them into an enormous basket, then used her wad to shrink it before picking it up and heading out the door.  
  
"Connor," Zack asked curiously. "Why does everyone go outside to Apparate?"  
  
"There are wards on the house to prevent anyone from Apparating directly in or out. Except Dobby; he can pretty much do it anywhere, I think. It's like... good manners or something. Like Muggles wouldn't just go to someone's house and walk right in; they'd knock first."  
  
That made sense, but Zack sure hoped that they offered a class in such things before he graduated Hogwarts. "So what are we doing now?"  
  
"We're going to make sure my sister and brothers are busy, then we're going to sneak into the attic and have a look around," he said matter-of- factly.  
  
They went to check on the other kids and found them in the family room playing a complicated looking board game with pieces that hovered an inch above the surface of the table. They seemed to be very involved, so Connor simply motioned for Zack to follow him and walked back toward the stairs. They went up all three flights of stairs and came to the attic door. Connor knocked twice on each corner of the door, then tapped the doorknob once and said, "Let me in."  
  
The door swung open, and Connor grinned back at the look on Zack's face and motioned for him to follow him up three more steps and then into a large open storage area, filled with neatly stacked and labeled boxes. Looking around them, they saw labels like, 'baby clothes' and 'photo albums' and 'Christmas decorations.' They walked quietly around, until Zack finally spotted something of interest.  
  
"Here's one that says 'Harry's school things' on it!" he said. It was actually a trunk very much like the ones he and Connor used to store their belongings at Hogwarts. "If the battle at the Ministry took place while he was at school, then there might be something in here."  
  
Connor came over and helped Zack lift the trunk and bring it to the floor, and then prayed that it wasn't locked. Both boys sighed when the fastenings flipped easily and the lid came open without even a creak from the hinges. Inside were a few old schoolbooks, a plaque that bestowed thanks to Harry James Potter for 'Special Services to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry', a program, for some strange reason, to a Muggle play in London, an old cauldron, empty vials and such, an old Gryffindor scarf, and various other things of little interest to the boys. It wasn't until they were about to give up on the whole thing that Connor spotted a large folded piece of parchment tucked carefully into a pocket in the trunk's lining. There was a red ribbon tied carefully around it, and a tag that read, "VERY important."  
  
"What do you think it is?" Zack asked, as Connor carefully slid it out.  
  
"Only one way to find out," he said with a shrug. He slid the ribbon with the tag off the end, and carefully unfolded the parchment, only to find that it was blank. Zack's shoulders slumped in disappointment, but Connor was no so easily deflated. "I wonder what it is? Maybe there's something written in invisible ink?" He was frustrated at not being allowed to use his wand. "I think we should hold onto it until we get back to school."  
  
He re-folded the parchment and replaced the ribbon and tag, then set it aside while they continued looking for anything else that might be useful. Unfortunately, they didn't find much, even when they stumbled upon a school trunk that had been labeled, 'Ginny Weasley'. Finally, Zack glanced at his watch and said, "It's been nearly an hour since your Mum left."  
  
They took the mysterious parchment and hid it in the bottom Zack's trunk for the time being, since it would be least likely to be discovered there if anyone were to snoop. They went down to the kitchen in time to see that the others were still playing games in the family room, and were about to join them when Mrs. Potter came through the front door.  
  
"I'll have lunch going in just a few minutes," she said as she took off her cloak. "Did your father's client leave yet?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Connor said. "We were upstairs for a while."  
  
"He left, and now there's some woman down there with him," Lucy said with mild disgust. "She pinched our cheeks."  
  
Ginny chuckled as walked toward the kitchen. "That will have been Mrs. Menchin, come to pick up her son's broom. She even pinches my cheeks."  
Zack and Connor sat at the kitchen table twenty minutes later, enjoying huge bowls of beef stew, when Connor's dad appeared. He had just shown Mrs. Menchin to the door, and was sporting a very pink cheek from the pinch that she had given him. He sat down at the head of the table and dug into his own bowl.  
  
"I just have Kingsley coming now," he said to Ginny, "And then we can head out to your mother's."  
  
"Sounds good," she replied, handing Adam a napkin for his messy face.  
  
"Is Mr. Shacklebolt getting a new broom?" Ian asked keenly. He was very fond of the Auror, and often tried to coax anyone who was going to the Ministry on business to take him along so that he could see him.  
  
"Yes," Harry nodded. "His old one met with an unfortunate end, I'm afraid. I'm not going to be the one to tell him he's getting too old to compete in the Annual Swedish Broom Race."  
  
"Why don't you compete in it, Dad?" Lucy asked.  
  
"Your Mum won't let me," he whispered loudly enough for his wife to hear.  
  
"Your father seems to enjoy his close calls with dragons," she said dryly. "I'm not having him in a race that goes straight through a dragon reservation."  
  
"Well I want to compete when I'm old enough," Lucy said firmly.  
  
They were saved from the need to answer that announcement by the tapping on the window that came at that moment. Harry got up to open the window to let the tawny owl inside. "Looks like Godric's back from your house, Zack."  
  
Zack was pleased when Godric fluttered in and landed on his shoulder, hooting proudly. He extended his leg and waited patiently for Zack's fumbling fingers to untie the letter he bore, and then accepted the chunk of beef that his young master offered.  
  
"May I please be excused from the table Mrs. Potter?" he asked politely. "I'd like to take Godric to his cage and read my letter, if it's all right."  
  
"Of course," she answered with a smile.  
  
Zack stood, enjoying the weight of the bird on his shoulder. He gathered his bowl and glass, and carried them to the sink, saying, "Thank you for lunch, Mrs. Potter. It was delicious."  
  
Connor rolled his eyes as his mother beamed at their guest. "May I please be excused as well?" he asked in his most courteous voice, mocking Zack's behavior.  
  
"Yes you may," his Mum smiled, not missing her son's slight sarcasm. "Thank you for using you manners."  
  
Connor rolled his eyes again, and stood. He turned and was almost to the staircase when he sighed heavily and came back to collect his dishes and take them to the sink as Zack had done. "Lunch was good, Mum," he said, and then fled up the stairs after his friend.  
  
Connor entered his room to find Godric sitting regally atop his cage instead of inside of it, and Zack had the letter from his parents open, and was laughing quietly at it. He wondered what could be so amusing, since everything he know about Mr. and Mrs. Ellis told him that they were somewhat stiff and formal people.  
  
"My Dad likes his quill set," Zack said, seeing Connor staring at him. "Look."  
  
Zack turned the paper he was reading over to show very heavy and expensive looking stationary, scribbled over with thickly penned words and many blotches of ink over the entire thing. It looked to Connor as though a four year old, rather than a full-grown man, had written it. "It looks as though he's never used a quill before."  
  
"That's because he hasn't really. He gave one of mine a go last year, but wasn't very good at it then, either." Zack explained. "Muggles don't use quills; I had to practice for hours to get the hang of it."  
  
"You're joking!" Connor said. "How do you write anything down?"  
  
Zack laughed and explained about pencils, markers and ballpoint pens. At Connor's fascinated expression, Zack made a mental note to ask his parents to send some of them for his friend to see. They talked about other differences in Wizarding and Muggle items for a while, and then Mrs. Potter was calling up the stairs, "Boys! Time to go!"  
  
They grabbed their cloaks, and at the last second, decided to take the parchment they had found earlier with them to show to Rachel.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

_"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"- Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs_

Zack stepped out of the fireplace at the Burrow, aided by a set of strong hands that steadied him and kept him from falling on his face.

"Hello again, Zack!" Fred Weasley said easily, turning toward the fire once more to see that Lucy made it out safely.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," Zack said, moving out of the way for those who were following behind him.

Lucy was dusting herself off and moving past Zack as he waited for Connor to come through the Floo.

"Just call me Fred. There are going to be a lot of Mr. Weasleys here tonight."

Zack was torn; his parents would never approve of him calling an adult by their given name, but these people were a very informal group, and it could be very confusing for him to address them all as formally as he had been raised to do. He nodded hesitantly, and was relieved when Connor stepped through the Floo, and grabbed his arm to pull him out of the kitchen.

House was older and more…lived in than the Potter home, but definitely had the same feel to it. There seemed to be people everywhere, most of them with red hair and freckles. They found Rachel in the living room, and the three of them headed outside, where most of the kids were running around in the snow, throwing snowballs and shrieking with laughter. Zack looked around in amazement at all of the Weasley progeny and turned to Connor and asked, "How many are there?"

"In total, or just the kids?" he asked.

"Er, just the kids," Zack said, and waited while Connor counted on his fingers.

"There are twenty five of us if you count the Potter kids," Rachel said without needing to count. She picked up some snow and formed it into a tight ball, and just held onto it, waiting for a prime opportunity. She took at deep breath and said, "Me, Connor, Gwen, Prue, Lucy, Ian, Adam, Judith, Brian, Jack, Shannon, Mathew, Maggie, Victoria, Ella, Sarah, Marcus, Peter, Jarod, Aiden, Shawn, Dylan, Arthur, Patrick and Michael."

"Now you're sounding like Adam. I can't believe you can say all of our names in a single breath," Connor said, rolling his eyes.

"How far did we travel to get here, exactly?" was Zack's next question. There was snow here in abundance, but there had been very little at Connor's house. He looked up at the crooked form of the house that could only possibly be standing with the aid of serious magic, and surveyed his surrounding with no idea as to where they actually were.

"A couple of hundred miles, I'd guess. Rachel wouldn't have had to travel as far, as she lives closer to the Burrow." Connor said dismissively, watching with admiration as Rachel suddenly spotted Aiden and let her snowball fly, hitting their cousin squarely in the side of the head. She scooped up more snow, and formed it into another ball. "Listen, Zack and I went snooping around in my attic, and the only thing we found was a piece of parchment…." Connor grabbed Rachel's elbow and steered her toward the side yard, where there was a small stoop that led to a side door into the kitchen, causing her to drop her second snowball.

The three of them sat huddled together, examining the parchment closely, looking of any clues, and didn't see or hear George sneaking up on them. "What are you three up to out here?" he asked suddenly, grinning when they all jumped guiltily and did their best to hide what they were holding without seeming to obvious about it. "Is that… it is!" he breathed almost reverently when he spotted the parchment behind their backs. He crouched down beside the trio and reached out to pull it forward. "Where did you get it?"

"Er, in the attic at my house," Connor admitted, cautiously hopeful that they were about to find out more. Since his uncle wasn't scolding them, he pulled the ribbon and tag out of his pocket and held it out. "In Dad's old school trunk, wrapped in this."

"Does he know you have it?" George asked quietly, looking around them furtively.

"No," Connor said, beginning to feel excited. It seemed that his Uncle George actually did know what was so important about this thing.

"Good lad," he grinned. "Do you know what it is?"

All three shook their heads and waited expectantly for an answer.

"It's the Marauder's Map," he told them importantly. He waited a beat, but was greeted with only blank stares, and so he sighed and added quietly, "A map of Hogwarts. It won't work here, but when you get back to school, you tap it with your wand and say, '_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!'_ and the map will show up, the entire castle – secret passageways and all - along with everyone _in_ the castle. When you're done, you tap it and say; '_mischief managed_!' and it'll go blank. Now put it away before anyone sees; there's more than one person here tonight who'd recognize it."

"I wouldn't want anything to happen to it," Connor said, folding it back up and slipping it into the pocket of his cloak.

"It's charmed to with anti-tearing, anti-smearing, anti-burning and lots of other anti charms to keep anything from happening to it. It can still be confiscated, though, so be careful, especially around Lupin," George told them all conspiratorially.

"Why especially around Lupin?" Rachel asked at once.

George looked around again to be sure no one was there to overhear and said, "He's one of the map's makers. He and Harry's dad and Sirius and another… _friend _made it while they were students in Hogwarts."

Rachel and Zack shared impressed looks that made George grin.

"So you won't tell my dad?" Connor asked with relief.

George simply winked at them and said, "Tell him what?" before pushing himself to his feet and going back into the house.

The trio looked at each other and grinned, already wondering what use they could put the map to once they returned to Hogwarts.

"I have a feeling that we struck gold on this one," Connor said happily. "Now let's go back inside, because I'm about to freeze out here."

When they got inside, Zack was stunned to find that the rooms seemed to be twice as large as they had been only a half an hour before. He was tempted to run back outside to see if the house was bulging or if it seemed larger in any way, but no one else seemed surprised by this sudden enlargement, so he just followed Connor around the long tables that were being set up. There were glasses and plates and silverware floating through the air as wands directed them to place settings, and Zack ducked a pair of candlesticks narrowly missed his head as they soared past. He followed Rachel and Connor up the stairs, past bedrooms and portraits and bathrooms, all the way to the top of the house until they came to the attic door. Zack expected them to have to knock and give a password as Connor had done at the Potter's home, but Rachel simply reached up and turned the doorknob to admit them.

This attic was very different from the neatly organized one that Connor and Zack had visited earlier in the day. This space was packed to the rafters with boxes and trunks and crates; some were labeled and some weren't. There were two dressmaker's dummies in one corner, and several pieces of furniture that were all in some sort of disrepair stacked precariously along one wall.

"How are we supposed to find anything in here?" Zack asked in dismay.

"The same way everyone else does," Connor answered with a shrug. "Just start digging!"

They each chose a general direction and began opening boxes and peering inside. Most of the boxes were full of old clothes and discarded toys from the older Weasley siblings' childhood, or photo albums. They found old school trunks and empty pet cages, and back issues of _Witch Weekly; _a large crate of books all authored by one Gilderoy Lockhart, and a stack of old cauldrons as well.

"Blimey," Connor said after about fifteen minutes. "Someone should just come up here and vanish most of this stuff off to a rubbish skip somewhere."

"And if you mention it to anyone, they'll give you the job," Rachel said pointedly. "Only you won't be able to use your wand."

"Right," he said. "It must be getting near to dinner time."

"Hey!" Zack said as the others were closing up the boxes that they had opened. "I've found a box here full of letters from a Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."

They gathered around the box, but didn't have time to do much more than look at the stack of parchment inside before they were being called down to dinner. They closed up the box and put it near the door to the attic, hoping that they would be able to come back for it before they left that night. They all went down into the general chaos that was the Weasley and Potter families, and sat at the end of one of the long tables, ready to eat. Zack waved to Professor Lupin, who was seated further down the table near Molly Weasley, a bit surprised to see him there.

The meal was merry and loud and Zack found himself just observing it all to file away in his mind as a favorite memory he was sure he would keep for the rest of his life. There was more of the enchanted mistletoe that they had seen in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and several women that Zack didn't know had already kissed Zack and Connor on the cheek. The conversation was punctuated occasionally by a huge _boom_ of noise from the crackers set about the table, and Zack actually shouted out in fright when the first one sounded, because he had been expecting the tiny _snap _that usually accompanied the Muggle version of the same favor. When he pulled one with Lucy, he was amazed when the hat that emerged was not a flimsy tissue paper concoction, but a tiara encrusted with glass jewels, and the toy that tumbled out was miniature set of gob stones. Connor tried to get him to wear the tiara, but Zack insisted that it looked better on Lucy. He pulled another with Connor, and though he knew what to expect sound-wise, he didn't expect a newt to come running out of the tube and straight into the fire. He laughed as he donned the jester's hat that had come from it, and looked around to see that just about everyone at the table was wearing a silly hat, and no one seemed embarrassed about it; Connor's father was wearing a flowered sun hat, while his mother had gotten a purple silk top hat. Lupin was laughing at a joke that Sarah was reading to him while he donned a bright orange porkpie hat.

The meal came to an eventual end, and Connor and Zack were sitting on the bottom steps of the stoop outside, wishing they'd said 'no' to that last helping of pie. The adults were inside, making short work of getting the dishes cleared up and the tables and chairs back to their normal size and number in the house. Adam was sitting on Professor Lupin's lap in a chair on the porch, looking as though he was close to falling asleep, and Rachel, Victoria and Lucy were trying to coax their Uncle Charlie into telling the story about how he had met his wife Brianna when she'd saved him from a dragon where they worked.

"Come on, Uncle Charlie!" they pleaded. "It's so romantic!"

"There was nothing romantic about it," Brianna claimed with a straight face as she came outside for a breath of fresh air. "I ended up having to treat his sorry butt for burns. Literally."

Zack laughed at this, and was just about to see if Connor wanted to play a game of exploding snap with the new set he'd gotten from one of the crackers, when Fred and George Weasley exited the house with a huge box floating in front of them.

"Time for the annual Weasleys Wizard Wheezes fireworks show!" they called out.

It only took a couple of minutes for the entire clan to come outside wrapped in their winter cloaks and gather round. Many of the adult couples stood with their arms around each other, and Connor spotted his own parents leaning against the railing of the porch, his mother securely folded into his fathers arms, held against his broad chest. It gave him a funny feeling inside sometimes to see his parents like this; it was all he knew, but he also knew that his father had grown up with very little affection in his life at all until he'd gotten to Hogwarts. He thought briefly of Andrew and his father being away in St. Mungo's because of mental issues. His sudden shiver had very little to do the cold for a moment, but then his attention was drawn away by a huge burst of yellow and blue high in the sky above the Burrow.

Zack was entranced by the huge Catherine wheels and the floating sparklers that spelled out 'happy Christmas' and shooting rockets that stayed in the air for much longer than Muggle ones might have done if they could have even managed to make them so spectacular. Connor smiled as he watched his friend's reactions to the bursts of light overhead, and wondered what he would have been doing now if he had gone home for the holiday instead of coming here. He was pretty sure it wouldn't have been as good as this!

The fireworks show lasted for almost an hour, and everyone was nearly frozen by the time they all went back indoors. Mulled wine and hot chocolate were passed around to warm everyone up, and then all of the families began to gather their things together and head for home. Rachel disappeared up the stairs of a minute, and when she came down, she slipped the box they had left in the attic into Zack's hands, and he tried his best to hide it beneath his cloak. When it was their turn to go through the Floo, Connor's dad stepped in first with Adam fast asleep against his shoulder. Lucy followed, then Ian, then Zack. When Connor came through the Floo into his own home, he found that Zack had already excused himself and hurried up the stairs.

"Zack," Connor called as he approached his room. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Zack hissed. "Close the door!"

Connor quickly closed the door and Zack showed him the box that Rachel had snuck out. "Brilliant!" he breathed.

"I was losing my grip on the box when I came out of the Floo, so I just said that I had to go to the toilet as soon as I came out, and ran up here before I could drop it," Zack explained.

They changed quickly into their pyjamas and said good night to the rest of the Potters, then retreated back to Connor's room to take a look through the stack of parchment. Most of the letters appeared to be letters informing Arthur and Molly Weasley that their sons Fred and George had been caught doing any number of things that were against Hogwarts rules and that they were being disciplined for said actions. There were letters of congratulations for all of the children being named prefects for Gryffindor house, except the twins of course, and several letters of reprimand for the other children combined. Connor noticed that his own father's name came up often in the letters that concerned his Uncle Ron.

"Look at this one!" Connor said to Zack as they sifted through the numerous pieces of correspondence.

_"Dear Arthur and Molly,_

_It falls to me once again to write to you concerning your son Ronald, and daughter Ginny. Ronald and Ginny were found in the company of three other Gryffindors (who parents and or guardians have also been notified), _out of_ their Common Room well after curfew hours, and were caught attempting sneak out of the Slytherin House Common Room. Found in their possession was evidence of several items that have been previously been declared dangerous and banned from school grounds by our resident Caretaker, Argus Filch._

_While it is my belief that the students were attempting to carry out a prank in the spirit of inter-house rivalry, all are aware that their actions are strictly against school policy and have received one week's detention under the supervision of Head of Slytherin House, Professor Severus Snape. The offending students will also be required to repair and clean any damages caused by the small explosion that resulted from the aforementioned prank._

_Yours, as always, _

_Professor Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

_Head of Gryffindor House."_

"Explosion?" Zack laughed in astonishment.

"A week with Snape?" Connor added. "Now I wish we didn't have to keep these a secret. The next time I get into trouble, I could just tell them that at least I didn't blow of the Slytherin Common Room!"

The sound of someone coming up the stairs made the boys quickly shove the letters back into the box, and Zack shoved the box into his trunk. They scrambled into their beds, with Zack just barely making it up into his when there came a light knock at the door before it opened.

"You two should be asleep," Mrs. Potter was clearly attempting to look stern, but the twinkle in her eyes gave her away. "The twins and Adam will likely wake you early, so try not to stay up too late. Good night boys."

"G'night Mum," Connor said around a yawn.

"Good night Mrs. Potter," Zack said.

Connor got out of bed to turn out the ornate lantern attached to the wall by his dresser, and opened the window so that Godric could go out to hunt when he liked.

"Won't we freeze with the window open?" Zack asked sleepily.

"Nah," Connor yawned again. "All the windows are charmed to keep the cold out, even when they're open. Now let's get some sleep; tomorrow's Christmas."

It didn't take either boy long to drift off with slight smiles on their faces.


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

_Perhaps the best Yuletide decoration is being wreathed in smiles. --Unknown_  
  
Connor woke to the sound of his sister and brothers shouting for him. His mind reached out in vain to hold on to the last remnants of the dream he'd been having, but it was no use, the last wisps of the dream floated away as hid eyes opened. He groaned when he noted that the sun hadn't even risen yet, but the sounds of Lucy, Ian and Adam racing up the steps was unmistakable. Just moments after opening his eyes, Connor was shaken awake by Lucy, who was bouncing on his bed, urgently saying, "Wake up! It's time to open presents, and Mum and Dad say we can't start until you and Zack are there!"  
  
Above him, he heard Zack grunt as Adam climbed over the railing of the top bunk and landed on him. "Zack! Zack! You have to come downstairs NOW!"  
  
"It's still dark out!" Zack said tiredly.  
  
"It's almost seven!" Ian said, practically dancing on the spot. It's snowing out, so it'll be dark all day. Come on!"  
  
"Okay! Okay!" Zack said, sitting up slowly, Adam tugging heavily on his arm.  
  
Connor was already sitting up and rubbing his eyes, reaching for his dressing gown. "Whatever happened to the tradition of the presents being left at the end of the bed?"  
  
"We never did that," Lucy said. "You're getting that from Dad's stories about Hogwarts. Let's go!"  
  
The three younger kids managed to bully Connor and Zack out of the bedroom, and then waited impatiently while each of the boys took their turn in the loo before allowing themselves to be propelled down the stairs.  
  
"We got them, Mum!" Adam announced excitedly, dragging Zack into the family by the arm. While Ian and Lucy were both shoving Connor along while he dragged his feet just to annoy them.  
  
Mr. And Mrs. Potter still in their pyjamas and dressing gowns; they were sitting together in one over-stuffed, over-sized chair, each with a thick ceramic mug in their hands as they watched their children and guest invade the room.  
  
"Sorry guys," Mr. Potter said as they both flopped onto one of the couches tiredly. "You were warned no to stay up too late."  
  
"At home," Zack said, fully awake now, but still lethargic, "I'm not allowed to wake my parents before nine on Christmas."  
  
Connor's mum did her best to not appear horrified at this bit of information, and said brightly, "Well as you can see, we do things a bit differently here. Ian, why don't you start passing out presents?"  
Ian punched the air happily, and rummaged through the seemingly endless gifts under the tree. Soon everyone in the room was busily unwrapping colorfully papered presents and exclaiming over their new things. Zack had expected to spend most of the time enjoying watching the Potter family open their gifts, but was surprised to see that the pile of gifts for him had grown to far past his expectations. The first thing he opened turned out to be a jumper of navy blue wool with red striped across the front, and he thanked Mrs. Weasley who had clearly knitted it herself.  
  
"It's a family tradition," Lucy said, pulling her own new violet jumper over her head. "Grandma Molly just doesn't have time to make them for everyone, so Mum pitches in."  
  
In fact, everyone in the room did have a hand knit jumper, and Zack grinned, happy to be included in the tradition. He knew that he would receive some small tokens from his friends, and he wasn't disappointed; Rachel had given him an enormous box of Pepper Imps, Ivy had given him a book on useful charms, and Quentin had sent a book on the various Quidditch teams of the world with excellent moving pictures. He was just opening a bottle of Belching Bubbles from Connor when his friend said, "Thanks Zack!"  
  
Zack laughed as Connor jumped up to show his parents the large stack of Muggle comic books that he'd just opened, featuring superheroes of various kinds. Adam came and hugged Zack and thanked him solemnly for the bag of sweets he'd received from their guest. Lucy and Ian were somewhat mystified by the walkie-talkies and batteries they had received from him, but thanked him very politely just the same while their father laughed. While the twins went to ask their father about their latest gifts, and Connor was looking through the comics, wondering aloud what laser beams were, Zack spied something moving among his friend's pile of opened gifts. He reached down and picked up a framed picture of himself, Connor, Quentin, Ivy and Rachel, all waving at the camera; they were obviously standing on the Quidditch pitch, and Connor, Quentin and Ivy were all in their practice robes, and they all had their arms around each other's shoulders and were smiling broadly. He smiled at the image and wondered if he could get a copy of it made, when Connor's dad stood and said, "I think there's one more gift to be given out."  
  
Zack wondered which member of the family would be the recipient of the last gift, but he suspected that it was going to be Mrs. Weasley. Zack's own father often surprised his mother this way on Christmas, with a special gift that he waited to give her until the very end of the gift opening – usually some sort of jewelry. He was rendered speechless when Connor's dad lifted a long wrapped box from behind the tree and handed it not to his wife, but to him.  
  
"Happy Christmas, Zack!" he said with a grin.  
  
Though Zack was pretty sure he knew what was inside, his heart thumped almost painfully inside his chest as he removed the wrapping and lifted the long lid of the box to find the modified Daytripper broom he had ridden the day before. He felt the grin growing on his face, and didn't even stop to think as he stood and threw his arms spontaneously around Mr. Potter and hugged him tight, saying excitedly, "Thank you so much!" Harry hugged the boy back with a laugh, pleased, and Connor let out a whoop and asked if they could go out flying to break it in.  
  
"Son," came the amused reply. "There's about two feet of new snow out there, and it's still coming down. You haven't even had breakfast yet."  
  
Connor looked disappointed, but Zack simply sat down again and ran his hands lovingly over the handle of his new broom, unable to believe his good fortune. He didn't mind not being able to ride it right away, since he had spent hours on it only yesterday morning.  
  
At Mrs. Weasley's bidding, they collected their opened gifts and took them up the stairs to be put away while breakfast was put on the table. Connor set the picture he had received from Ivy on his dresser and smiled happily at it for a moment, then tossed the rest onto his bed.  
  
"What else did you get?" Zack asked him, tearing his eyes away from the Daytripper and sitting on the floor across from the bed.  
  
"Books from Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron," he said, rolling his eyes. "She's determined to get me to read 'Hogwarts, A History', Rachel gave me some Sugar Quills, Quentin gave me this cool little gadget for my broom that's charmed to keep score during the game so I don't loose track. Uncle Remus sent me a dream journal... ha, ha, ha."  
  
"Speaking of dreams..." Zack said quietly. "You've been talking in your sleep again."  
  
"Yeah," Connor sighed. "I've had that same dream a couple of times now since I've been home. The one with the clocks and that lady."  
  
"I wonder if you really are dreaming about Andrew's grandmother," Zack said thoughtfully.  
  
"It fits, doesn't it?" Connor said, feeling fairly certain that was exactly who the woman was. "I'd like to know why, though."  
  
They didn't have anytime to ruminate on the possible answers to that question, though, as they were called down for breakfast. They quickly changed from pyjamas to regular clothes, and ran down the stairs with the kind of thunderous noise that only twelve-year-old boys can make, and skidded to a halt at the bottom, surprised to see Professor Lupin sitting at the table across from his dad, with a cup of tea in front of him. Connor caught the last few words of what he was saying to his father.  
  
"Yes," he was saying quietly. "Samantha Tillman. I'm almost sure of it. In the time room."  
  
"But he never said anything about it." His dad looked troubled, and Connor groaned inwardly.  
  
The conversation came to a halt as the two boys entered, followed closely by Lucy and Ian, each of whom were holding one of the walkie-talkies that Zack had given them. Connor was glad when Adam came into the room and climbed into Uncle Remus's lap and began talking his ear off, though he knew from the uneasy expression his father wore that he would soon have to explain why he hadn't told his father about this new dream. Zack and he exchanged looks that said, 'uh-oh' before going to sit at the table, where Connor did his best to act as if he hadn't heard his uncle ratting him out.  
  
"Happy Christmas!" he said cheerfully at almost the exact same time as Zack.  
  
"Happy Christmas, boys," Lupin returned warmly. "How has your day been so far?"  
  
"Great!" Zack said.  
  
"Really cool," Connor replied. "Thank you for the journal."  
  
"Your welcome," came the easy answer. "I hope you'll use it."  
  
Wanting to get off that subject as quickly as possible, Connor sighed with relief as the twins started telling him all about the gift Zack had given them, and showing him the batteries as if they were some bizarre and exciting new item. Connor was actually interested in having a closer look himself, but didn't want to seem too impressed with them in front of Zack, who would probably think he was strange.  
  
Breakfast was a long, happy and noisy affair, punctuated by stories of past Christmas escapades, and visits from various family members and friends, who stopped in with holiday greetings and the occasional gift. Professor Lupin had departed to visit other friends, and almost immediately Professor McGonagall popped in to see her "niece" and "nephews". Owls came and went all day long, carrying Christmas cards and letters. Before noon, Adam had fallen asleep under the tree in the family room, clutching yet another Puffskein that he'd received as a gift from his Uncle Fred, who had given him the first two he owned as well on various occasions. This Puffskein was a bit different than the other two, though, in that its fur was a bright white color instead of the standard custard color, earning it the predictable name of 'Snowball'.  
  
"I swear," Connor heard his mother say as he and Zack were on the way outdoors to play in the snow. "If Fred sends another one of those things to this house, I'm going to buy him a Fwooper – without the silencing charm."  
  
By the time dinner was ready, Connor and Zack were frozen through their heavy cloaks and thick jumpers, and were more than ready for a hot meal. When they got inside, the boys found that Rachel was stepping out of the fire, and that her sisters had already arrived. It appeared that her family had been invited for Christmas dinner, along with Connor's grandmother. They would be eating in the formal dining room that night for sure, and judging by the way that everyone else was dressed, they would be made to change their clothes beforehand.  
  
"Connor, Zack," Mrs. Potter said when she spotted them hanging up their cloaks. "You'd better go and get changed into some nice robes for dinner; it won't be long now."  
  
Rachel snorted at the look on her cousin's face and waved cheekily at him. She was already dressed in pretty green velvet robes that had been a gift to her that morning. The two boys headed up to Connor's room, with Connor griping the entire way. "I don't see what we need to get dressed up for. Its only family."  
  
Zack laughed as he shrugged off his jumper and rummaged for some of the nicer robes his parents had thought he would need when they had bought him his school, supplies. He hadn't even worn one of the sets yet, and figured that tonight was as good as any to break them in. "This is no big deal," he said, toeing off his trainers. "I have to dress for dinner every night when I'm at home. It's expected." He looked up at and grinned at the look of horror on his friend's face. "We don't have to get really formal, just nicer than play clothes; no denim or trainers or tee shirts."  
  
"Every night?" Connor visibly shuddered.  
  
"Pretty much," Zack shrugged. "That's just how it is, it's no big deal."  
  
"Muggles are strange," Connor said, pulling a set of deep red robes from his wardrobe and shrugging into them, making sure that his trainers weren't showing.  
  
Zack rolled his eyes at this bit of defiance, and neatly tied his own nicely polished ones. "I don't think its just Muggles that do that," he said, running a comb through his hair and gathering in neatly into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. "I have a feeling that Quentin was raised the same way I was."  
  
"How do you know?" Connor asked curiously, slightly envious of the way Zack's hair was so easily managed. He finally admitted defeat, tossing aside his comb and making sure that his hands weren't dirty  
  
"I don't know," Zack said. "Just observation."  
  
"You must think we're all a bunch of animals, then," Connor smiled as he led the way out of his room.  
  
"No," Zack corrected him. "Just you."  
  
He narrowly avoided a playful smack on the back of the head and jogged down the stairs to find that most of the family was already seated at the dining room table. He spotted Mr. Potter speaking with Rachel's parents in a corner, and at a gesture from Connor, walked over to that side of the room on the pretense of saying hello to the elder Mrs. Weasley. He distinctly heard the words "time-room" and "then it's not coming from you" from the trio who were all looking concerned and looking furtively over at Connor, who was teasing Gwen and Prue. Zack had the sinking feeling that Connor and his parents were going to be having a long talk very soon, and finished his brief conversation with Mrs. Weasley, hoping that he had replied appropriately to her remarks. He made his way over to Connor, but before he had the chance to relay what he had heard, Mrs. Potter asked them all to be seated. Connor sat down, and then rolled his eyes dramatically when he saw Zack holding a chair for Rachel and then Gwen, who both looked pleased at the attention. Connor got to his feet and held a chair for Prue and Lucy, earning smiles from his mother, aunt and grandmother.  
  
"I'm serious," Ron was heard to say to Harry as he held his wife's chair. "Send him to my house next."  
  
"Will you quit making me look bad?" Connor hissed at Zack in mock aggravation.  
  
"Sorry," Zack murmured back easily. "You just make it so easy."  
  
Connor's response to this was a snort and a mental vow to get back at his friend later. He had to admit that everything looked nice as he surveyed the room. There was lots of candlelight, garlands of holly and pine in festoons along the walls, the fireplace at the far end of the room the crackling merrily, and the table was set with the good china. It would have looked odd for them to all be sitting here in their everyday clothes, so he guessed he didn't resent having to dress for dinner so much, after all. He was about to ask Zack if he had heard anything good from his eavesdropping, but his father stood just then with his glass in his hand and smiled at everyone.  
  
"Well," he began. "You all know how much I love to make speeches." Everyone chuckled at this, and he continued on. "I just wanted to thank you all for coming to share Christmas dinner with us. It's become a tradition for us to meet here like this, and I hope it's one we never have to break. Happy Christmas."  
  
Everyone raised their glasses and repeated, "Happy Christmas," touching their glasses together.  
  
The meal was brought in, and everyone helped themselves from the many platters of food passed from hand to hand around the table. The talk was a little more subdued than it had been the night before with all of the Weasleys present, but no less merry. Zack listened raptly to stories of Christmases past, and relayed a few stories of his own about Muggle traditions and customs. They were well into the meal when Connor finally nudged his friend and whispered, "What did they day?"  
  
"Well," Zack said sympathetically. "You'd better start thinking up a good reason why you didn't tell your parents about that latest dream."  
  
Connor swallowed hard and nodded his understanding. "I think I'll be okay there," he said, already having a good idea as to how he would explain. "Besides, it's Christmas. He won't bug me about it tonight."  
  
The dinner guests stayed until late, and Connor and Zack said their goodnights and were about to head up the stairs when Harry called after his son.  
  
"Connor, I'd like a word with you in the morning. I'll be in my workshop, so come and find me when you're up and about, okay?" There was no hint of anger or accusation in his voice, and so Connor nodded and fled up the stairs.  
  
Zack tugged off his robes with a huge yawn, and said, "I like your family."  
  
Connor followed suit, and said, "They like you too. I swear my parents would adopt you if you were available."  
  
They pulled on their pyjamas and climbed into bed. Godric fluttered out the window with a soft hoot to hunt, and both boys were asleep before they had a chance to talk about anything else.  
  
"It's nearly 11:30!" Rachel whispered urgently. "If we want to get there by 2:58, we need to hurry; we have no idea how long it's going to take to find the right room."  
  
Connor was just about to reply, when Quentin announced, "He's gone! Let's go!"  
  
"What was Lupin doing here so late anyway?" Ivy asked as they all stood from where they had been sitting on the floor in a shadowy corner of the Gryffindor Common Room.  
  
"Maybe he suspects something," Zack said.  
  
"How could he?" Connor asked, heading for the portrait hole.  
  
"I hope you're right about this," Rachel said nervously. Connor held up a piece of paper that had a drawing on it that looked like a wagon wheel before stuffing it in his pocket and said, "I've got the directions right here. Now let's go!"  
  
"Go where?"  
  
Everyone gasped in surprise and shock as Andrew stepped out f the shadowy stairwell from the boy's dormitory and confronted them.  
  
"Get out of the way!" Connor said angrily, wondering if they would have to resort to hexing the other boy to make it out without further detection.  
  
A hand descended on Connor's shoulder at that moment, and he jerked awake. He was startled to find that not only was he standing at the top of the staircase in his house, but that his father was standing directly in front of him, one step down.

**_A/N - A fwooper is an African bird with brightly colored feathers. The Fwooper song will drive the listener insane and must therefore be sold with a Silencing Charm on it (FBAWTFT). _**

**_Thanks to everyone who's following along and leaving reviews! I appreciate everyone's input and comments and hope you will continue to let me know what you think! (Flames will be used to toast marshmallows)._**

**_PS - In answer to one of the comments in the review page: Harry didn't name any of his kids after Lily or James or Sirius because he didn't want them to feel they had to live up to anyone else's standard or in anyone's shadow. He tells me that he feels very firmly that his children should be free to develop their own personalities and become their own people.... plus it seems too cliched._**


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

_Lying is the most simple form of self-defence. -Susan Sontag_

Connor was very tired as he sat at the kitchen table across from his parents, who were both wearing identical expressions of anxiety. His mother had made them all tea, but Connor was too tired to drink it, and still a bit confused as to what had just happened.

"You don't remember anything?" his father pressed.

Connor shook his head 'no' and rubbed his eyes. "I was dreaming. I didn't even know I wasn't in bed until you woke me up in the hallway and scared the life out of me."

"I was just coming up to check on you and Zack before turning in, and you came walking out of your room. I thought maybe you were just going to the toilet, but you turned the wrong way and started walking toward me. I got to the top step and thought that you wanted to talk to me, but you just stood there for a moment and then told me to get out of the way," his dad explained. "I asked where you were going, and you didn't answer, and I realized you were asleep. I put my hand on your shoulder to steer you back to bed, but you woke up right then."

"Do you feel okay, sweetheart?" his Mum asked worriedly.

"I feel fine," Connor answered truthfully. "Just tired. Was I really sleepwalking?"

His mother nodded. "You haven't done that since you were about seven, though."

"Can you remember what you were dreaming about?" his Dad asked.

"I was trying to sneak out of the Common Room after hours," he grinned sheepishly. He didn't feel that they needed to know the details of the dream, and left it at that, hoping they would draw their own conclusions.

"Why would you want to sneak out after curfew?" his Mum asked with a frown.

"I don't know Mum," Connor said, though he had a good idea where he and his friends had been headed. "Dad woke me up before I could find out. Probably to nick some food from the kitchens."

"All right, son. Go back to bed, and we'll talk more in the morning," his dad said quietly with a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Hadn't he done the same on many occasions when _he _had been in school?

Connor nodded and climbed the stairs again, but when he got to his room he grabbed a quill and some parchment and wrote down everything he could remember about the dream, so that he wouldn't forget it sometime during the night the way that sometimes happened with dreams. He had a feeling that what he had dreamed of was very important in all of this somehow.

Connor woke to the sound of Adam's laughter in the hallway outside his bedroom. A quick glance at the clock told him that it was already past eight o'clock, and the sound of Zack's gentle and even breathing told him that his friend was not disturbed in the least by the noise his family made in the mornings. He lay quiet for a while, listening to the clinking of dishes just barely audible from the kitchen below where his mother or Dobby was at work making breakfast, and the strange static like sounds that came from the walkie talkies that Zack had given the twins yesterday. At last he reckoned that he should get up and dressed for the meeting with his father, before his Mum or Dad came looking for him. It was probably best to let Zack sleep as long as he could so that he wouldn't be left to entertain himself for too long while he was down in the basement workshop with his Dad.

Yawning widely, he shuffled off to shower and then dressed and had a quick breakfast. He watched Adam and the twins dashing about in search of cloaks and gloves and scarves while his Mum tutted exasperatedly as she tried to round them all up to take them all to the market and to keep them out of the way for a while, before descending into what his Mum like to call 'the cave' in search of his Dad. The basement was actually nothing like a cave, and Connor enjoyed spending time in here most days if he was allowed.

"Hey sleepyhead!"

His Dad had undoubtedly been up for hours, and was at a workbench, using a steam box to shape the handle of a custom broom into the shape he wanted. There was a thin film of perspiration on his brow that he wiped on the sleeve of his robes, knocking his glasses slightly askew, and he turned his attention back to what he was doing.

"Hey Dad," Connor answered, coming over to watch the process. The wood was being infused with a bluish magical steam that made the wood pliable and infused it with properties that made it pretty much unbreakable. He had spent countless hours in this workshop over the years, watching as his father patiently crafted some of the finest brooms in the world for some of the most famous flyers.

"How did you sleep after your little nighttime walk?" His dad turned over an hourglass to time the steaming process, and turned back to the nearest countertop, where he was in the process of choosing the twigs that would make up the tail of the broom.

Connor knew that once each individual twig was selected, they would be carefully charmed; each individual one would be treated carefully and precisely to prevent snapping, splintering or loosening. Custom-made _Dog Star_ brooms may cost the earth, but it could never be said that the money was wasted on an inferior product. "I slept okay. I don't think I had any more dreams. None that I can remember, anyway."

"Good," Harry said casually, measuring twigs that he had already sorted through once, making sure that they were the right size and shape for placement. "I had a little talk with Remus. He says he had breakfast with you last week and that you told him that you'd dreamed about the Ministry of Magic again." His eyes stayed on his work, and he was careful not to sound too accusatory. "Hand me those red handled clippers, would you?"

Connor handed over the clippers and answered carefully. "Yeah. I dreamed about a witch this time."

"Thanks," Harry said, taking the clippers and snipping a millimeter from the base of a twig. "Why didn't you owl me or your Mum to let us know about it?"

Connor shrugged and answered, "Professor Lupin seemed to think that it was Andrew Tillman's grandmother; he said that she was working there the same night that you were there. I just assumed that it was you projecting your memories of her to me, like Madam MacTaggart said, and I didn't want you to feel bad about it."

Harry looked up at his son, who was not quite meeting his eyes, but was instead focusing on the bridge of his glasses. He got the distinct impression that he wasn't getting the whole truth from his son, but his 'Dad senses' didn't detect any real traces of dishonesty or guilt, either. He found himself tested in his promise to himself that he would never use Legilimency on anyone he loved without their permission, but mastered the urge and said, "I don't think so. While Samantha Tillman _was_ there that night, I never saw her. In fact, I was barely even aware of her until months after the fact."

"Well then why would I be dreaming about her?" Connor asked innocently. He didn't know why he felt the need to keep some of the details from his father, but Connor simply didn't feel that it would be good for him to tell him everything he had dreamed and what he thought about Madam MacTaggart's opinion on the matter. He felt sure that if his parents felt that he was experiencing a change in his abilities, he would be treated to many more meetings with MacTaggart or any other number of 'specialists' on the subject. "Do you think that maybe I'm picking up Andrew's thoughts as well?"

"I don't know, Con," Harry said, considering the possibility. "I suppose it's possible, but since Andrew wouldn't have any first-hand memories of that night, it doesn't seem to fit."

Connor picked up a handful of twigs from a basket on the table in front of him and automatically began to sort through them for the best shaped ones. He knew that even though his father appeared to be concentrating on wrapping already prepared twigs together with a strong, supple wire, he was immersed in his own thoughts. A few moments later, his Dad sighed and said, "I know you don't want to hear this, Connor, but I think that it's time to contact Madam MacTaggart again… and maybe even Dumbledore."

"Dad!" Connor groaned, dragging the one-syllable word out for three. If his father was considering bringing in his previous headmaster, and one of the oldest wizards in the world to consult with, his parents were a lot more worried than he'd thought.

"I'm sorry, Son," Harry replied seriously. "But we need to get to the bottom of this. If you're suddenly picking up on other people's thoughts or memories, we need to know about it. If you're not, well, we need to know that, too."

"Dad," Connor pleaded, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. "It's no big deal. I'm being really careful."

"I'm sorry," Harry repeated firmly. "This isn't up for debate. There are a lot of ugly things out there that I don't want you exposed to if I can prevent it. All it would take is for one careless word or action, and the whole world could know that Harry Potter's oldest son can read other people's thoughts and predict the short-term future. The very worst that our world has to offer would be coming out of the woodwork to get to you. There may not be a Dark Lord hovering over our heads anymore, but there are still plenty of dark wizards; it's my job to keep you safe from them, no matter what."

Connor sighed heavily, knowing that there was no arguing with _that_. "I just don't want everyone to look at me like I'm some kind of freak. I don't want to _feel _like a freak. What's going to happen if MacTaggart and Dumbledore and who knows who else starts coming around all the time?"

"We're going to try our best to keep that from happening," Harry answered, putting a comforting had on his son's shoulder. "It's the last thing _we_ want, too."

Connor nodded glumly, more determined than ever to keep the full extent of what he dreamed from his parents; it would only give them more fodder for their search for what was 'wrong' with him. He thought of the Dream Journal that he'd gotten for Christmas, and decided to begin using it, to put everything from his dreams into some sort of order to find out if it made anymore sense that way. What if his parents were right? What if he was suddenly reading other people's minds? What would that mean in the long term? His dreams had been kind of jumbled and seemed out of order, jumping from what seemed to be past and future; was it possible that it was _both?_ As much as he hated to admit it, he was beginning to feel nervous about everything that had been going on in his dream.

"Connor." His father's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "I need you to promise me that you're going to try extra hard to avoid exposing your abilities to anyone else, and that you'll tell someone if you have anymore dreams."

"Okay Dad," Connor said, grateful that his father had used the word 'someone' instead of 'me' or 'us'. "I promise."

"Good," Harry said, and changed the subject with a smile. "Now why don't you make yourself useful and apply a second coat of that anti-jinx varnish to that handle over there?"

Connor grinned at the opportunity to work with his father for a while, and went to retrieve the broom handle from a rack on the wall.

Zack woke up to find that the weak winter light coming through the open window was a bit brighter than it had been yesterday, and he wondered idly if more snow had fallen during the night. There wasn't much noise coming from the rest of the house, but Connor's snoring was suspiciously absent, so Zack rolled over and peered over the side of his bed to find that Connor's bed was empty. He jumped down and retrieved his watch from the dresser and noted that it was already nearly eleven! He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever slept that late, and wondered why no one had woken him.

He dressed quickly and went in search of Connor or any of the other Potters, but all he found in the kitchen was the house elf Dobby, who was dressed in a very horrible collection of mismatched clothing, and wearing a frilly apron as he took a loaf of bread out of the oven.

"Good morning, young master!" Dobby greeted him cheerfully. "Mistress Ginny says that you will be hungry when you come down, so I have been keeping a plate warm for you."

"Thank you," Zack said, sitting at the table while the elf levitated a plate piled high with food over in front of him. "Do you happen to know where everyone is?"

"Mistress Ginny has taken Young Lucy, Ian and Adam to the market, and Young Mister Potter is down in the basement with Harry Potter. Young Connor should be coming back up in short while; he had been down there since breakfast was over." The elf then cheerfully left Zack to his meal, and excused himself to see to the laundry.

Zack had just put his plate in the sink (which was busily washing it's own dishes) and was wondering what he would do with the rest of the morning when the door to the basement workshop opened, and Connor and his dad emerged, both laughing. Connor was carrying his broomstick.

"Hey Zack!" Connor grinned. "Have you been up long?"

"No, actually. I just barely got up a half an hour ago; I guess I was really tired!" Zack answered.

"Well what do you want to do today? Dad says that we can take your new broom out for a while until Mum and the others get home." Connor said hopefully. He would ride his broom every day if he were allowed, but wasn't often permitted to do so without some sort of supervision, especially since the younger kids refused to be excluded.

"Sounds great," he said. "I'll go and get my broom!"

He ran up the stairs to retrieve the Daytripper, eager to ride it again, and paused to look proudly at Godric, who was asleep on his perch. By the time he made it back downstairs, he could see that Connor had gotten their cloaks, hats and gloves ready, but was kneeling in front of the fire. As he got to the family room, he could see Quentin's head in the flames.

"…I just need to get out of here for a while," he was saying to Connor.

"Come on over!" Connor said. "Bring your broom – me and Zack were just about to head outside for a bit."

"Give me two minutes!" Quentin said with relief, and withdrew his head.

"Look's like Quint's going to join us," Connor said unnecessarily as he stood up. "Vanessa's driving him nuts, so his dad is letting him escape for a while."

They put on their cloaks and got ready to go outside when the flames in the hearth rose and turned bright green, and an instant later, Quentin was stumbling out, clutching the handle of his broom.

"Thank Merlin!" he said as he straightened up. "One more minute with Vanessa, and one of us was going to end up in St. Mungo's!"

The boys spent a good hour in the air, enjoying their freedom from siblings and general responsibility before Mrs. Potter, who had just returned home and had lunch ready for them, called them down. After lunch, they locked themselves in Connor's room and talked about their Christmases and what they planned to do with the rest of their holiday. Connor showed Quinten the letters they had found and told him about the most recent dream.

"That's not the only thing you have to worry about," Quentin said after he heard Connor's account of what his father had said. "Vanessa's out for you as well. She says that she's going to make it her mission to make sure everyone knows what a freak you are." His voice was laced with disgust as he said the last part.

"What can she really do?" Connor asked, not feeling overly worried. "If she tells anyone, she'll be in so much trouble that she'd be lucky to be allowed to stay in school."

"If I know my sister, she can do plenty. Just watch yourself around her, okay?" Connor agreed, and was sorry to see his friend go two hours later.

That night, while Zack was writing a lengthy letter to his parents, Connor retrieved a quill, ink, and the Dream Journal that his uncle had given him. He wrote down as much as he could remember about each of the dreams he had had that seemed to relate to the Department of Mysteries. He even drew a crude sketch of the revolving room and the rooms leading off of it. He was helped by the fact that he had dreamed about many of these things more than once, and so his memory of them was fairly accurate. He hoped that once he had it all down on paper, he would be able to spot a pattern or a clue as to what his dreams were really about.

The rest of the holiday seemed to pass in a bit of a blur. Rachel came over often to spend time with them, and Quentin came once more as well. Ivy sent an owl saying that she had some news to share, but that she wouldn't be able to see them until they met on the Hogwarts Express to go back to school. They spent their days flying or playing in the snow, and even one memorable day 'helping out' at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Zack had gotten to visit Rachel's home a few times and found it to be very similar to the Potter household, with lots of noise, broomsticks in various stages of completion and a general feeling of organized chaos.

Finally it was the night before they were to leave to return to school, and Connor's Mum was preparing a large dinner, as if she wasn't fully aware of how well her son was fed while away from home. They ate until they felt as if they would burst, and then everyone went up to bed, thinking about what the following day would bring.

"I'm looking forward to going back to school," Zack said with a little surprise in his voice as they lay in bed that night. "This has been the best holiday ever, but I'm ready to get back to learning magic. I miss using my wand."

"I know what you mean," Connor answered sleepily. "I do too."

****


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

_"One's mind has a way of making itself up in the background, and it suddenly becomes clear what one means to do." __-A. C. Benson_

The morning started early, and was a flurry of activity as Connor and Zack packed their trunks and gathered all of the things they would take back to Hogwarts. After a short debate, Zack told Godric to go to the Owlery at Hogwarts, and let him out of the window before Mr. Potter shrunk the cage to be small enough to fit into his trunk. Mrs. Potter had washed and folded all of the boys' robes and other clothing and stacked them neatly on top of each trunk, ready for packing. The boys were both grateful that she hadn't decided to pack for them, or she might have found the pilfered letters and blank map hidden in Zack's trunk.

Mrs. Potter was in the kitchen, letting Dobby handle breakfast as she sat down to eat with the children. The younger kids would come back from their school break today as well, and so she would be needed in the schoolroom behind the house shortly. Rachel would be arriving shortly, and Mr. Potter would be seeing them through the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron, where he would have a cab take them all to Kings Cross station to catch the train.

Rachel arrived right on time, followed by her father, who set her trunk next to Connor and Zack's before he sat down to eat a bowl of porridge with them, even through Rachel claimed he'd already eaten an omelet before leaving the house. Connor thought that his Dad looked strange in Muggle clothes, though he was wearing a similar jumper and jeans. His Mum always claimed that if it weren't for the height difference and the fact that his dad wore glasses, they would be nearly indistinguishable from each other, to which his Uncle Ron would always mutter jokingly, "Poor kid" and his Dad always punched Uncle Ron in the shoulder.

The trip to the Leaky cauldron was uncomfortable with the trunk crammed into the Floo with him, and Connor was glad when he stepped out of the fire. Zack and Rachel were already dusting themselves off, and his Dad Apparated into the portal beside the Floo almost right away. Uncle Ron was obviously not going to Kings Cross with them, as he was wearing a set of nicer robes, and that thought was confirmed when he pulled Rachel aside to give her a bone-crushing hug.

"Be good," he admonished firmly. "Have a good term. I have to get going or I'm going to be late to my meeting."

They all waved goodbye to him, and then walked to the front of the pub while Harry looked outside and then announced that the cab had arrived. It took some doing to get all of the trunks situated, as only two would fit into the trunk, and one had to lay across their laps in the back seat while Harry rode up front with the driver.

"Why didn't your dad just shrink the trunks before we got outside?" Zack asked Connor quietly as they pulled into traffic.

"Mostly because of the brooms," Connor answered. "_Dog Star_ brooms have so many anti-jinx and spell-repelling charms on them that they wouldn't have shrunk with everything else, and we'd attract too much Muggle attention carrying around broomsticks."

They made it to the train station with twenty minutes to spare, and wasted no time in passing through the barrier at Platform 9 ¾. Harry helped them get their trunks on board, and gave them some money for the witch with the food trolley. They quickly found that Ivy was already on board and had saved a compartment for them. Zack thanked Mr. Potter for the tenth time that day for letting him come for the holiday, and finally they were left on their own. It only took a few minutes for Quentin to join them, and they all waved out the window to their parents as the train pulled away from the platform and started the trip back to Hogwarts.

"Okay," Ivy said after closing the compartment door so that they wouldn't be overheard. "First things first; I have some news."

"Let's hear it," Rachel said, all of them leaning forward so that they could keep their voices low.

"Well I was rummaging through the library at home, and I came across a book that my Great Grandmother had kept about my Dad while he was growing up. He was raised by her, you know," Ivy said excitedly. "At first it was cute stuff; pictures of my dad as a baby and records of things like his first steps and words and stuff like that. I was about to put it away, but decided to see how long she'd kept it for, and found that it went right up until he left Hogwarts! I went to where his fifth year was recorded, and I found a letter to G.G. (that's what we called her before she died) that said my Dad had been at the Ministry of Magic with Harry Potter and '_some other students'_ and had been involved in a battle with Death Eaters during which his wand had been broken. It said that my Dad had been mildly injured and that the school nurse had healed him, but that he'd been really brave and had helped defend several others involved. I can't remember the entire exact wording. I would have brought it with me, but Mum caught me looking through it, so I pretended to be looking at pictures of him just before his first year at Hogwarts. She took the book to look through again herself, since she didn't go to Hogwarts, and she hadn't put it back by the time I have to leave for here."

"So your Dad and my parents were in that battle," Connor said.

"Yeah," Ivy said. "I still can't believe it! My Dad has got to be one of the gentlest people I know. I just can't picture him in a battle."

"I can," Rachel said. "My Mum talks to Dad about the war sometimes, and I know that they both have a lot of respect for your Dad. They talk about him like he's a real hero."

"Dad doesn't talk about the war much at all," Ivy said regretfully. "Maybe some of the stuff we find out about it will help me learn more about my own Dad."

"Or mine," Quentin said quietly. "If the battle that happened that night at the Ministry was the same battle where Sirius Black died, then I'm pretty sure that it's the same night my Grandfather, Lucius was arrested and sent to Azkaban."

They all fell silent and looked at Quentin for a sign of what they should say or feel about this. Connor was pretty sure that there had been no love lost between Lucius Malfoy and Quentin's father, but he was still family, and Connor's own father had played a part in his capture and arrest. "How do you know that?" Connor finally asked quietly.

Quentin smiled faintly in an effort to put his friends at ease. "There's a portrait up in the attic at home of my grandmother's sister, Bellatrix. I kept noticing that Vanessa was going up to the attic a lot this past holiday, and so one day when she came out, I went in there to find out what she found so fascinating. I found the portrait, and had a rather…unpleasant conversation with her."

"She's the one who killed Uncle Sirius," Connor said quietly, not sure how to feel about the fact that one of his best mates had a picture of his Uncle's murderer in his house.

"And the one who tortured my grandparents," Ivy added a bit shakily.

"I know," Quentin said in a whispered apologetic tone. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be ridiculous," Rachel said briskly, he voice seeming too loud after such a tense moment. "Quentin wasn't even born when those things happened, and none of us is stupid enough to think that he's in any way to blame for any of it."

"Of course not," Connor agreed, coming to his senses. "We're _all_ sorry about those things, but no one blames you, Quint. You can't help what happened in the past any more than we can."

"But what was Vanessa doing up there, and what did the portrait say to you?" Zack asked. He had only a vague idea of everything that his friends were discussing, being relatively new to the Wizarding world, and wanted to get them back on track after hearing references to murder and torture from people he cared about.

"Well I'm pretty sure that Vanessa has been going up there to talk to Bellatrix, though I'm not really sure why she would want to; that woman must have been horrible in real life, if her portrait is anything to judge by," Quentin said, grateful to Rachel for breaking the tension. He had been dreading talking about this, knowing what feelings it might invoke in his friends. "Dad doesn't talk about her at all, but then, he doesn't talk about his own parents either. I didn't get a chance to search the attic, but I know that there are no pictures or portraits of them around the manor. Anyway, I went up there to see what Vanessa was up to and the portrait started talking to me. She seemed nice enough at first; told me I looked a lot like my mother, but then she changed when she asked me how I was finding Hogwarts. I told her I liked it well enough, and she asked if it was true that I had been sorted into Gryffindor and that I was friends with a Potter."

"I don't imagine she was thrilled with your answer," Connor observed dryly.

"No." Quentin winced, but with a small smile in place. "When I told her that you were one of my best friends, she got…ugly. I've never even heard of half of the names she called me, though I could tell they were bad. She went on and on about how the Potters had ruined everything, and how heartbroken Narcissa – my grandmother – had been when Lucius had been sent Azkaban after being caught in the Department of Mysteries the night she'd killed her cousin Sirius. I tried to goad her into telling be more, but as soon as she realized that I didn't know about a lot of it, she just laughed and refused to say anything else. I think she must have been mad, even when the portrait was done."

"So now we know that Connor's Dad and Mum, Ivy's Dad, and probably Rachel's parents as well, judging by how close they were, were all there that night at the Department of Mysteries," Zack said. "And Connor's dad said that he'd been lured there in his fifth year. That should give us a place to start looking for answers."

"I've already started writing down everything I can remember from my dreams," Connor said. "I had a new one while we were on holiday, too. I'm not sure what order they all go in, but I'm pretty sure that they're all related to each other."

"Well we can start with the letters that Zack and Connor have from Grandma Molly's, and I managed to get the clippings from under my Mum and Dad's bed last night while I was packing. They'll need to be enlarged, but we should be able sort them out according to date and get a good idea of how things unfolded, and see if anything from your dreams fits in." Rachel said confidently, pulling what looked like a small wooden jewelry box from her robes.

She opened it to reveal what looked to be scraps of parchment no bigger than an inch or so wide by two inches long. The writing upon them was so miniscule that Connor doubted that a magnifying glass would have helped to decipher what they said.

"Is that something we should be doing _here_?" Quentin asked nervously. "What if someone comes in and sees all of it?"

"Quint's probably right," Connor admitted reluctantly. "We'll need to find a place at Hogwarts where we can go over this stuff without being interrupted."

"What about that map?" Rachel asked logically.

"I almost for got about that!" Connor looked over at Zack who jumped to his feet and retrieved that blank parchment to show the others. Connor explained to Ivy and Quentin how he had come by it and how it was supposed to work, and they all agreed that if it still worked, it could prove to be a huge asset to them in the coming years at Hogwarts.

Zack hurriedly put the map away as the food trolley neared their compartment, and Connor used the money his Dad had given him to buy a huge stack of cauldron cakes and bottles of Butterbeer for everyone. Rachel bought a large assortment of sweets, explaining that her sisters had found her secret stash at home and had replaced it all with stuff from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, so none of it could be trusted.

"My dad sprayed pumpkin juice across the dining room when my Mum ate a Warthog Wafer the other day," Quentin said fondly as they ate their lunch. "I don't think I've ever seen him laugh that hard before. Mum wasn't very amused, though."

They all laughed, and Ivy said, "I'm saving mine for the Slytherin's table. I'm going to talk to one of the house elves and see if I can convince them to send them up on a plate during lunch some time."

"Brilliant!" Zack said appreciatively. The others agreed.

As the train traveled steadily northward, the sun began to set. They were visited a few times by other students who were restless from just sitting still all day, and mostly sat talking amongst themselves, whiling away the time until they arrived at Hogsmeade station. Soon it was time to change into their robes, and so the girls excused themselves to another compartment to change. When they finally arrived, they were among the first off of the train, but didn't immediately head for the carriages that waited to take them up to the school, as they pulled on gloves and scarves in the frigid air. Connor spotted Vanessa Malfoy practically sprinting to the front of the line of carriages, apparently eager to get up to the school first, and wondered if she was cold, anxious to be back, or if perhaps she was meeting someone. If she had finally found herself a boyfriend to occupy her time, perhaps she would leave him and his friends along this term. He could only hope.

Quentin has apparently spotted his sister as well, and muttered quietly to Connor, "You want to keep an eye on her; she was in an abnormally good mood this morning."

Connor laughed, and they all caught a carriage about halfway along the line. He was hungry after the long trip, and though there wasn't a feast waiting for them inside the castle, he was still looking forward to dinner. It was as he was walking toward the huge front doors that Connor saw it. Something was going to come flying at him as he entered the castle, and he knew in an instant, with a certainty that he knew better than to argue with, that Vanessa Malfoy was behind it. She was going to try to force him to react and show everyone that he had known about it beforehand… there was only one thing he could do.

"You guys go on ahead," he called to his friends. "My shoe's untied."

They nodded and kept walking, and Connor pretended to kneel down to tend to his laces. Taking a deep breath, and not looking forward to the next few minutes in the least, Connor stood and entered the castle. Every muscle in his body was tensed, but he forced himself to keep walking; if he dived out of the way at the last second, others could be hurt, and if he warned anyone, his secret could be compromised. Still, even though he had known that it was coming, he was surprised to feel something hard and heavy crash into the side of his head and shoulder before he hit the ground and blacked out.

"I thought McGonagall's head was going to explode."

"Lupin was white as a sheet!"

"His head looks terrible!"

Connor came back to consciousness slowly, hearing the loud whispers of his friends around him. His head felt as if he had an axe embedded in it, and his whole body ached as though he'd fallen fifty feet from a broom. An involuntary groan from him had his friends quieting down, and he distinctly heard Ivy say that she was going to fetch Madam Cosgrove.

"Connor," came Rachel's soft voice in his ear. "Can you hear me?"

Connor simply groaned again, finally comprehending that he was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. He tried to recall what could have happened to send him here, but his head hurt too much for thinking right now. "_Ow_," he said, forcing himself to get at least one syllable out so that they would know he could. He felt extremely nauseous, and focused what was left of his attention on keeping down the meager contents of his stomach.

"_Ow_, indeed, Mr. Potter," came the brisk voice of Madam Cosgrove. "Can you open your eyes?"

Connor screwed up his eyes more tightly before working at forcing them open. He just knew that he wasn't up to having any sort of light shined into them yet, and dreaded what raising his eyelids might do to the already unbearable pain in his head.

"Come on, now Connor," Professor Lupin's voice was suddenly at his side. "Open your eyes and let Madam Cosgrove have a look."

With a bracing gulp of air that did nothing to settle his stomach, Connor allowed his eyes to flutter open, relieved when he noted that the lights in the room had been dimmed dramatically for him. Everything around him was blurry, and so he blinked a few times to bring everything back into sharper focus. I didn't help much.

"Everything's blurry," he said quietly.

"Let's see what we can do about that," Madam Cosgrove said gently. She used some sort of strange brass instrument to look into his eyes, and then withdrew her wand and muttered an incantation that caused his entire head to tingle, though it didn't improve his blurry vision. "I'll be right back, young man."

Connor waited patiently, listening to the sounds of glass tapping glass as Madam Cosgrove mixed up whatever potion she thought he needed. His stomach was churning at the thought of drinking anything; potions never tasted good in his experience. "Feel sick," he muttered through clenched teeth, sucking in air as pain shot through his entire head.

"I've got something for that, too," Came Madam Cosgrove said kindly, returning with several small beakers in her hands. "I'll give you that one first so that you can keep the others down."

"What are you giving him, Grace?" Lupin asked.

"Well the one I'm giving him now will help with the nausea," she said, using a sort of giant eyedropper to feed the potion into his mouth with the need to move him. "Then I'll be giving him something to dull the pain, and something to mend the fractures in his collarbone and jaw. I've got something to help with the bruising. The last will help him to sleep while the bones knit themselves back together. I've got a paste for the abrasions on his face."

'_I've got a broken collar bone and jaw?_' Connor thought to himself, feeling slightly panicky. '_Is Vanessa trying to trick me or kill me? And I'll never be able to prove it was her_."

The first potion wasn't so bad as far as taste went; it was a bit chalky, but the flavor was slightly minty, and his stomach settled down almost as soon as the potion hit his tongue. The pain-relieving potion was okay as well; though not something he wanted to take on a regular basis, and he felt the throbbing in his head subside to a dull ache.

"What happened to me?" he asked. "What hit me?" Before anyone could answer him, though, the nurse was leaning over him again.

"These next two are going to be nasty, Mr. Potter," Madam Cosgrove warned him. "But it's important for you to completely drink them both."

Bracing himself for what was to come, Connor fisted his hands in the sheets of the bed and tried not to gag as the orange colored fluid was poured into his mouth; it tasted as horrid as he had expected. He swallowed it with an audible gulp, forcing the awful liquid down when his mind was telling him that nothing that foul belonged inside of him. '_The second potion couldn't possibly be worse than that one,_' he thought to himself. That was before he saw that the beaker she was pouring out for him was frothing with blue smoke.

"I can see properly again!" he croaked with relief as he realized that the room had come back into focus. Quentin, Ivy, Rachel and Zack were all standing off to the side with Professor Lupin, all of them looking shaken and worried.

"Yes," Madam Cosgrove smiled at him gently. "That last potion was to reduce bruising and swelling. Once the swelling around your eyes subsided a bit, they went back to normal. One more, and then you'll be allowed to rest. This one will start your bones to mending and has the added benefit of helping you sleep. Your friends can come and see you in the morning before classes."

Connor looked ruefully over at his friends and said, "I'll be okay."

They all nodded uncertainly and said good-bye as Lupin herded them out of the Hospital wing. No sooner had they walked out, and before Madam Cosgrove has a chance to administer the last of the potions, Professor McGonagall rushed in, followed closely by the Potters, all of them looking very worried."

"How is he, Grace?" Professor McGonagall asked, eyeing the smoking beaker.

"He's going to be sore for a few days, no question," Madam Cosgrove answered. "I'm just about to give him the Skele-mend, then he'll be off to sleep at least until morning."

"Skele-mend?" Harry said sharply. "What's that for?"

"Forgive me, Mr. Potter," Madam Cosgrove said; looking to Connor's parents, "I suppose you know that Connor was hit rather forcefully with a marble bust of Godric Gryffindor?" At their nods, she continued, "I'm afraid the blow did a bit of damage, as you can see. He was unconscious for about twenty minutes, and severely concussed. His face, as you can see, has several large contusions, and his ribs are bruised along his right side. His collarbone is broken, and his jaw has a hairline fracture, hence the Skele-mend. They should be fully healed by morning. I've already given him something for the pain and bruising, though he'll need more in about five hours."

Ginny was already sitting down at his side, tenderly brushing back his hair, her eyes brimming with tears. Harry came to stand beside her and said gruffly, "You're not going to win any beauty contests today, champ, and if Skele-mend tastes anything like Skele-grow…" he broke off and shuddered.

"Great," Connor sulked, fisting a hand in the sheets again.

His Mum took his hand and held it tightly as Madam Cosgrove poured the last potion into his mouth, stopping when he spluttered and allowing his to catch his breath. The acidic foaming potion was hard to swallow, and burned as it went down. By the time he had swallowed all of it, he had tears in his eyes from the pain the coughing had caused, and his Mum had tears sliding down her cheeks as well. His eyelids began to droop at once, and the voices around him began to sound distant as sleep tried to overtake him. The last thing he remembered as he fought against the potion was seeing his father's livid expression as he asked in a steely voice, "Who did this to my son?" and then sleep took him.


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

_"You can discover what your enemy fears most by observing the means he uses to frighten you." __-Eric Hoffer_

Connor opened his eyes to the bright light of morning, and took a moment to remember exactly where he was, and why. His body ached terribly, and he had a vague memory of being force to drink more vile potions in the middle of the night when he had woken up in pain. Turning his head slightly, he was surprised to see his father sitting in the chair beside his bed, reading a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Could I have a drink of water, please?" Connor asked quietly, his throat feeling raw.

His father instantly dropped his paper, and seeing that his son was awake, stood up and walked around the bed. He poured out a glass from the ewer by the bed, and carefully helped Connor sit up enough to sip from it.

"Better?" he asked as he eased Connor back onto the pillow.

Connor nodded, surprised at how weak he felt, and how much energy it had taken just to sit up and drink some water. "Feel tired," he said, glad that the words came out sounding normal instead of gravelly.

"I'll bet," his dad smiled. "Madam Cosgrove said that you'd be drained for the next day or so. Healing serious injuries takes up a lot of energy. How do you feel other than that?"

"Sore," he answered truthfully. "Did Mum go back home to teach her class?"

"No," his dad said. "She just went to get us some tea. Your friends stopped by to see you earlier, but you were still asleep. They said they'd be back at lunchtime." He motioned to a table at the end of the bed that had a bouquet of dewy flowers in a large beaker of water, and a card standing up beside it.

At the mention of lunch, Connor's stomach growled loudly, making his father chuckle. "I think that Madam Cosgrove went to arrange a meal for you. She should be back any minute."

Connor nodded gratefully and closed his eyes for a moment before looking back to his father's piercing gaze. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Harry's eyebrows raised in surprise. "What would you have to be sorry for?"

"For worrying you and Mum like this," Connor paused as he felt a lump form in his throat as he remembered his mother's tears the night before. "I could have ducked."

"Why didn't you?"

His father's voice was gentle, without the slightest hint of anger or accusation.

"I sort of knew it was going to happen, that something was going to come flying at me, and I didn't want any of them to get hurt. I told the others to go one ahead and pretended I needed to tie my shoe, hoping that there wouldn't be as many people around when it happened. I thought that if I ducked out of the way, someone else might have gotten hit, and if I shouted out or warned everyone or something, then everyone would know that I knew it was coming. I wasn't expecting it to be that big and heavy, though." Connor raised a hand to rub the side of his head where he had been hit.

"I'll bet you didn't." Madam Cosgrove has just entered the ward carrying a tray in her hands.

"I think that she has the hearing of a…" Connor began quietly to his father.

"I certainly do," she interrupted him as she approached. "There is very little in this ward that I don't know about."

"You do Madam Pomfrey proud," Harry told the nurse. "She had the ears of a fox, that one."

"I'll take that as a compliment, since she was my Aunt," Madam Cosgrove smiled. "And she told me all about _you_. Let's hope your son is a little less prone to injury, shall we?"

Harry smiled and nodded fervently. "Ready for something to eat?" he asked Connor, who was trying to sit up, sniffing hopefully at the air.

Madam Cosgrove and Harry used some pillows to prop Connor up into a sitting position, and then, much to Connor's disgust, the nurse made him take some more potions before he could start on the simple meal she'd brought him. With the worst of the ache chased away for a while, he was able to feed himself some soup adequately enough that his father retreated to his chair. At that moment, his Mum came into the ward, carrying another try loaded with a teapot and cups and some toast. She set the tray down on the table beside the next bed, and went over to fussed over her son for a moment before sitting in the empty chair beside her husband.

"So," his father said as his Mum poured out tea. "You knew that something was going to come at you, and you didn't try to avoid it because you were afraid that someone else would get hurt, and that your secret would come out."

Connor knew that it wasn't really a question, but that his father wanted his mother to know what they had spoken about in her absence. He nodded miserably anyway, setting down his spoon. "I guess it wasn't the smartest thing to do, huh?"

"I'm not sure how I feel about it, to be honest," his dad said seriously. "I was furious about it last night. Not at you, so much, but at the fact that it happened. I certainly would never have wished for you to end up here like this, but I can see now that you did at least think your options through and chose the one that seemed best to you. It takes a lot of courage to stand your ground, especially since you knew that there was a good chance you'd be hurt."

"That being said," his mother added with a gentle smile, handing a teacup to his dad. "Please don't do that again; you scared the life out me."

"Don't worry Mum," Connor said. "I don't want to go through this again in a hurry."

His parents encouraged him to finish his soup, and Professor McGonagall swept into the ward while they finished their meal and drew up a chair. They made small talk about how Connor was feeling and what his treatment thus far had been. They waited until he'd eaten as much as he could before continuing the subject of what had happened the night before.

"Connor," His mother said, vanishing the tray in front of him with a wave of her wand. "You said that you knew that something was going to happen last night. Do you know who did it?"

Connor nodded, looking at the three adults watching him expectantly. "I don't have any proof or anything," he said quietly. "But I knew who was behind it before it happened."

McGonagall's lips tightened, Ginny twitched, and Harry nodded to Connor in encouragement as he took his wife's hand in his in a placating gesture. "Who do you think it was?" his father asked him.

"Vanessa Malfoy," he said. "I think she was trying to force me to expose my secret."

Connor braced, sure that his Mum would explode into one of her rages of temper that she was usually so adept at controlling, but it never happened. To his surprise, his parents and McGonagall didn't seem surprised at all. "You knew?" he guessed.

"Right after you blacked out, everyone in the Entrance Hall started screaming," the Professor explained. "By the time the other teachers and myself had reached the scene, a few of the other students told us that Peeves had been responsible for the attack."

"Peeves?" Connor was confused. "That doesn't sound like him. He's rotten, yeah, but I've never seen him really hurt anyone before."

"Yes, well, when we questioned Peeves," Professor McGonagall said. "He gave us a very interesting story indeed. It seems that Miss Malfoy persuaded Peeves to participate in a little prank she wanted to pull, and had insisted that no one would be hurt, only frightened by it. I don't imagine it took much persuasion, and so he agreed to it, obviously with disastrous results."

"What did Vanessa have to say about it?" Connor asked, somewhat surprised that Vanessa had gone to so much trouble and risked so much to expose him.

"Miss Malfoy has inadvertently confessed," the Professor told him. "When she was confronted with Peeves' claims, she told us that you were suppose to duck, and that you were never supposed to get hurt."

"So what's going to happen now?" Connor asked uncertainly.

All of the adults studied him for a moment before his father said quietly, "We've all had a bit of a meeting, and we've decided that you will be the one to decide what will happen to her."

"Me?" Connor was stunned.

"It's very unorthodox, I'll admit, but _you_ were the one hurt in all of this," the Headmistress said. "And after a very serious warning as to what could happen if she was involved in anything to do with you again. You, therefore, will be permitted to decide whether or not she should be allowed to remain a student at this school. If you decide to allow her to stay, she will be permanently stripped of her place on the Slytherin Quidditch team, and will serve no less than one hour's detention every night for the remainder of the school year."

"What would happen to her if she was expelled?" Connor asked, feeling as if she had just laid a two-ton weight on his chest. Did they really think that he wanted a responsibility like this?

"Then she would no longer be allowed to attend Hogwarts," she told him simply. "It is possible that her wand would be destroyed, but most likely it would be left up to her parents to decide whether or not to hire a private teacher or try to place her at another Wizarding school."

There was no hint of what she felt he should do in her voice, and so Connor simply nodded and lapsed into thought. "And if I don't want to be the one to decide?"

"Then the ultimate decision would lie with the school governing board and myself." She answered with no change in her tone.

Connor could tell that none of them wanted to influence him either way. He understood painfully clearly that this was his own decision to make, and they would abide by whatever he chose.

"I," Connor began. "I think I'll need some time to think it over."

"Of course," McGonagall said. Connor thought he detected a hint something like pride in her expression, but the next moment she was all business. "Miss Malfoy is with her parents right now, awaiting your decision; I will go an inform them that you need some time to consider the matter, and that you should have an answer for them by dinnertime?"

"Yes, ma'am," Connor answered, and watched her leave; aware that it hadn't really been a question and that she expected him to have made a decision by then. Connor looked to his parents, who looked thoughtful, but offered no other advice. "What do you think I so do?"

"I think you should do what your heart tells you," his Mum answered.

His father nodded. "We'll support whatever you decide, but the choice has to be yours."

"What if I don't want to decide?" Connor asked a bit desperately.

"Even deciding to leave it up to someone else is a choice," his father answered sagely. "Your Mum and I will leave you alone for a bit to think about it."

Connor nodded and accepted the kiss his mother planted on his cheek before they left the ward. He didn't see a bright side to any choice he made, and knew that he has some hard thinking to do.

'_What would having Vanessa expelled accomplish?_' he asked himself. He was determined to make a list of the good and the bad and make his decision based on that. '_Well for one, it would get her out of my hair. Life might be easier if I didn't have to constantly worry about watching out of her. But on the other hand, if she was expelled she would basically be free to tell anyone she wanted to about me; she could conceivably go to Daily Prophet and let the whole of the Wizarding World know all at once_.' That option didn't hold a whole lot of appeal to him, and he wondered if Professor McGonagall or his parents had thought of this possibility.

What would life be like at school if she weren't expelled? The loss of Quidditch privileges for the next two and a half years and detention every night for the rest of this year probably wouldn't go a long way toward encouraging her harbor any warm and fuzzy feelings for him; if anything, it was bound to infuriate her even more. While she might not dare risk trying to expose him again, he was sure that she could endeavor to make his life unpleasant for him in dozens of little ways. It seemed like a no-win situation for both him and Vanessa either way he chose. He wondered with a bit of a twisted smile what everyone would say if he asked that she not be punished at all, and let things remain status quo. They would never go for that, and Connor knew that she deserved to be punished, and even if he asked for leniency, she would be harshly disciplined.

He was still mulling over all of the possible outcomes for all of his possible choices when he realized that he hadn't visited the loo in quite some time. Madam Cosgrove was not around at present, and he seemed to be in the hospital wing by himself, so he decided to try to make the trip by himself. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he slid slowly to his feet and gasped when his knees shook violently before they strengthened enough to support his weight. He felt as weak as he could ever remember feeling, and was grateful that the toilet was only a few away from the end of his bed. He felt slightly lightheaded and would like to have sat back down on the bed to rest, but his bladder was telling him that this was not an option, so he used the bed to support his first shaky steps. He moved to slowly across the space to the toilet, and shut the door behind him. Once his most pressing need was taken care of, Connor leaned heavily on the sink as he washed his hands and surveyed himself in the mirror.

He looked dreadful. Both of his eyes sported sickeningly yellowish green bruises around them, and an ugly paste was crusted over his temple and caked into some of his hair. The collarbone visible in the neck of pyjamas was an ugly purple. His ribs were tightly bandaged, and Connor realized that this was the reason his was having so much trouble catching his breath after the slightest effort on his part. His whole body ached, and but not _quite_ enough for him to want to take any more potions to alleviate it. He was about to open the door to return to his bed, when he became aware of voices outside of it, and listened to see if perhaps his parents had returned and might be discussing the decision he was being asked to make, hoping to gain some insight to what they really thought. It wasn't his parents though, he discovered, hearing Ivy's voice telling the others that he must be in the loo. He took as deep a breath as the bandages around his ribs would allow and opened the door to find all of his friend's eyes trained on him.

"Should you be out of bed?" Ivy asked the minute she saw him.

"Well compared to the alternative, I'd say it was a necessary trip," Connor tried to joke, but he could feel his knees beginning to wobble again.

Zack and Quentin jumped forward when they saw how weak he truly was, each taking an arm helping their friend back to the bed.

"Geez, Connor!" Rachel said, looking slightly pale. "You look even worse now than you did last night!"

"Thanks so much," Connor groaned, grateful when Zack helped him swing his legs back up onto the mattress and threw the light blanket over him. "What's going on out there?" he gestured vaguely to the doors leading out into the school.

"Ordinary day for the most part," Ivy shrugged. "None of the professors asked where you were, so I guess they all know."

"No one's seen Vanessa all day, either," Rachel added. "Not since last night."

"Not even me," Quentin said. "I know that my parents are here, though. Aiden said that he saw them this morning."

"Did they tell you what happened?" Zack asked, sitting on the end of the bed while the others all drew up chairs.

Connor nodded. "They told me."

"What do you think will happen to Vanessa now?" Rachel asked curiously.

Quentin gave a little shrug, and wouldn't quite meet Connor's eyes. Connor wanted to say something to reassure his friend that he didn't blame him in the least, but didn't know what he could say without causing an embarrassing moment in front of the others.

"I don't think I've ever seen Professor Lupin look that angry," Ivy said with a slight shiver. "Vanessa looked for a minute like she was thinking of running for it, and Lupin just grabbed her arm and didn't even say anything; he just held her there and waited to see what Professor McGonagall was going to do next.

"I thought that McGonagall was going breath fire when Peeves told her who put him up to it. I'm surprised they don't already have her trunk at the front entrance, ready for her to go back home." Zack said. " I don't know what they're waiting for."

Connor took a deep breath and said quietly, "They're waiting for me."

All eyes, even Quentin's, turned to him in surprise.

"They're leaving it up to me to decide what's going to happen to her." Connor said miserably. He told them what his parents and the Headmistress had told him about letting him decide if Vanessa should stay or go.

"No offense, Quint," Zack said decisively. "But she should be expelled; she could have easily _killed _Connor."

Ivy nodded in agreement. "I'm sorry Quentin, but I agree."

"I know, guys," Quentin said in a flat, emotionless kind of voice. "I just can't believe that she actually did something this…." He seemed lost for words to describe how calculated, hateful and seemingly vicious his sister's actions had been. "At least if she's expelled, she won't be able to hurt anyone again." He seemed resigned to the fact that his sister was facing one of the worst punishments that Hogwarts could dole out, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it.

"It's more complicated than that," Connor said seriously. He turned to Rachel and said, "What do you think about it?"

"Well," she said, considering the matter. "Expulsion has it's own risks, doesn't it? I mean, once she leaves here, what's to stop her from telling anyone she wants about your talents? I mean it's not exactly against the law to talk to people, is it? I suppose you could appeal to the Wizengamot to have a magical restraint put on her, making her legally liable for any damages to you if she _does_ tell anyone, but seeing as neither of you are of age…"

"And if you don't have her expelled, there'll be no living with her," Zack said. "It would be like she got away with it."

"Not exactly," Connor sighed. "If she gets to stay, she'll be banned from Quidditch – for good - plus detentions every day for the rest of the year. That should cheer her up, eh?

Comprehension of just how difficult Connor's decision really was began to dawn on the others as Rachel basically outlined all of the thoughts on the subject that he had already had. He was just about to ask Quentin what he thought he should do, when the doors to the ward opened, and Madam Cosgrove bustled in with a large tray of sandwiches and a large pitcher of pumpkin juice for them all. Everyone took a sandwich, but Connor only nibbled on his, and Quentin just shredded his, none of it making it all the way into his mouth. Before the two boys got a chance to really talk about it, though, it was time for them all to leave for their afternoon classes.

Connor called to Quentin, as he was about to go through to door. "Quint! Come back and talk to me later, okay?"

Quentin looked slightly green, but nodded silently as he left for his class.

Connor was just about to settle back and doze off a few minutes later, when the door to the ward opened once more, and Connor was surprised to see Quentin's walked in and walked over to the seat his son had only recently vacated.

"Hello, Connor," he said quietly. "Can we have a talk?"

Connor nodded nervously, and Mr. Malfoy sat down. "Professor McGonagall told me that you should be well enough to leave the Hospital wing in a day or two. I'm glad that you're doing better; I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am that this happened at all. I've spoken with Vanessa, and she's with her Mum now."

Connor wasn't quite sure what to say about this. He knew that his father had always been mistrustful of Draco Malfoy, but Quentin was his best mate, and he knew his own father better than that. On the other hand, his oldest child seemed to be evil incarnate….

"I came to see you, because I wanted to tell something," Mr. Malfoy said kindly. "Professor McGonagall and your parents told us about your precognitive abilities, no don't panic, they thought that I needed to know in order to understand how serious the situation is, and we've sworn not to tell anyone else. We understand how important keeping a secret is and what it could mean if it were to become general knowledge. In fact, it was _my_ suggestion and idea to leave the outcome Vanessa's punishment up to you, well, mine and Monique's – that's _Mrs_. Malfoy, in the hopes that it would help Vanessa understand as well."

"It was?" Connor was incredulous. How thick could a person get? His daughter practically took his head off in a stupid revenge plot, and he just hands over her fate to the very person she had attacked?

"It was," he confirmed, smiling slightly at the boy's reaction. He sobered quickly enough, and said, "I wanted to come and talk to you, not to excuse Vanessa's behavior, but to tell you a little bit about her. I thought that maybe it might help you make your decision one way or the other."

Connor didn't know how much Quentin's dad could say that he didn't already know, but was willing to listen. He wondered if he was now regretting his suggestion to leave such an important decision in his hands. "Okay," he said cautiously.

"Vanessa was, er, _is _a very intelligent girl," he began. "But I'm afraid that she's been spoiled since she was a baby."

Connor didn't find this very hard to believe. Quentin was always talking about how Vanessa could always talk her parents into doing or getting her anything she wanted, and from what Connor had observed it appeared to be true. She always appeared to carry herself with an air of superiority and disdain when Connor or his friends were around, even going so far as to insult her own brother for any and all to hear.

"Vanessa is actually very much like _I_ was at her age," he continued. He smiled again at the stunned expression on the boy's face. "You weren't expecting me to say that, were you? Well, it's true. I was spoiled and spiteful and woefully misinformed about certain things, and shared something else in common with her as well: I hated a Potter."

Connor nodded. He knew all about the rivalry that had once existed between his father and this man. He strongly suspected that they still weren't remotely fond of each other, but they had developed a grudging respect and tolerance for one another. Uncle Ron always seemed glad to reminisce about their school days and all of the times that Connor's dad had bested Draco Malfoy in one thing of another.

"The feeling was definitely mutual," Mr. Malfoy chuckled briefly, seemingly staring off into the past for a few moments before coming back to himself and becoming serious again. "We disliked each other at first sight, and did everything we could to get under each other's skin. I had been raised to despise and look down upon others I had been taught were _below_ me, and wasn't mature enough at the time to question any of that for myself and come to my own conclusions. That was a long and hard lesson for me to learn, and I don't want to see my daughter struggle the way I did or suffer the way I did to learn it herself. She wasn't raised to _hate_ the way I was, and yet I can't help but see that she's following the same path that I did as if it were an inherent trait. Her mother and I have both tried very hard raise our children better than the way I, and to a lesser extent, Monique was raised; Vanessa hasn't seemed to take the lessons we've taught her to heart, though. It's almost as if there's some sort of ghost from the past whispering into her ear the exact opposite of every value we've tried to instill in her."

Mr. Malfoy's eyes had taken on a slightly glazed appearance, and Connor wondered if her were still talking to _him_, or to himself. He sounded more like he was narrating a story than trying to help Connor understand anything any better.

"Well," Connor said without really thinking it through. "There kind of _is_, isn't there?"

"What do you mean?" Mr. Malfoy had asked at once, slightly wary.

"Well Quentin was telling me about how Vanessa was giving him a hard time over the holiday," Connor answered, hoping that he wasn't about to get his friend into trouble. "He said that she'd been spending time up in your attic, talking to a portrait of Bellatrix Lastrange. I mean," Connor was uncomfortable now, but forced himself to finish, "She was a Death Eater and all."

Mr. Malfoy stared absently at Connor for so long, that Connor began to feel uncomfortable. The ward was very quiet except for the ticking of an unseen clock, and it wasn't until a gonging bell signaled the end of the first afternoon class that Mr. Malfoy seemed to snap out of his reverie.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, becoming aware that he had drifted off on a train of thought. "I wasn't aware that a portrait of my aunt still existed; that would certainly explain a great many things. The whole point of my coming here and telling you all of this, was to help you to see that we know that Vanessa was wrong to do what she did, and it would have been wrong, even if you hadn't been hurt. I will see to it that no matter what decision you make, she abides by our promise to keep your secret safe."

"What would you do if she was expelled?" Connor asked suddenly.

"I don't honestly know," Mr. Malfoy replied, not seeming to be shaken by the question. "Just about every other student ever expelled from Hogwarts has had their wand destroyed. We would probably have to petition the Ministry to allow her to keep her wand and to seek other avenues for her education."

What does Vanessa want me to do?" Connor asked.

Mr. Malfoy studied Connor with an unreadable expression before saying, "I'm not sure she knows. Last night she was pretty worked up, and when Professor McGonagall told her that she could very well be expelled, she was defiant. This morning she had cooked up some idea in her head that she might be able to leave Hogwarts and start over in a new school like Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, and seemed quite pleased with herself for coming up with a solution."

Connor snorted. He could very well imagine Vanessa announcing her intention of shaking the dust of Hogwarts off of her robes and starting a new, glamorous life in France or someplace where no one knew her yet.

"Yes, well," Mr. Malfoy seemed amused by Connor's derision. "We disabused her of that notion pretty quickly by pointing out that she would have to submit an application and recommendations from the Headmistress of _this_ school to transfer to another, and that it was unlikely that they would want to take a student who had a record of attacking others. We were also very careful to assure her that that was even if she was allowed to retain a wand; and we might have been a little over-dramatic in our assertions that she may well end up having to learn how to live like a Muggle."

"So she wanted to be expelled before she found out how difficult it might be," Connor clarified. "But now she wants to stay?"

"I don't know if she wants to stay," Mr. Malfoy said honestly. "No Quidditch until she leaves school and detention for the rest of the year is a bitter pill to swallow, since she's still not entirely convinced that she did anything terrible. But she certainly doesn't want to find out what might happen to her if she has to figure out what to do with her life if she's expelled. Her mother and I have made it clear that if you decide to have her removed from the school, it will be up to her to take the necessary steps to petition the Ministry for a wand and an allowance to continue her education."

"So she doesn't think that what she did was wrong?" Connor asked quietly. That thought was disturbing to him.

"I'm not sure at this point. She knows that it was wrong, as in against the rules, but she seems to think that it was justified on her part, and that it wasn't as bad as everyone is making it out to be, because she never intended for you to me injured."

"Did she ever say _why_ it's so important to her to tell everyone about me?"

"No," Mr. Malfoy replied with the softest of sighs. "I don't know if she knows herself. She was certainly angry about her punishment earlier in the year, so it may have been to simply get back at you. It could also be the meddling of a hateful portrait, trying to cause trouble for the son of her arch nemesis."

Connor was impressed with the open and honest answers that he was receiving from Mr. Malfoy. He had not expected him to be so calm and understanding of it all; he had kind of expected him to stand up for his daughter and make justifications for her behavior, but he hadn't.

"What do you want for Vanessa, Mr. Malfoy?" Connor asked.

"More things than I could ever list," came the reply. "But for now, she needs to learn to live up to her potential and accept responsibility for her actions. I intend to see to it that she does that no matter what decision you make today."

Connor nodded and sank into thought, and Mr. Malfoy sat politely and waited to hear what the young man in the bed in front of him would say next. After a few moments, he opened his mouth, and was almost surprised to hear himself say, "I'm going to ask Professor McGonagall to let her stay."

"Thank you," Mr. Malfoy said solemnly. "What was it that made up your mind?"

"I'm not sure," Connor said honestly, then added with a hint of mischief. "Part of me wanted her gone, but another part wanted to see her suffer through detention every day."

"Those will be the least of her worries if she doesn't shape up," Mr. Malfoy said darkly. "I appreciate that you took the time to listen to what I had to say, and that you didn't just make your decision out of anger; you thought it through, and I couldn't have hoped for more. You really are very much like your father."

"I was surprised that you wanted to talk to me," Connor admitted, a little embarrassed at the praise, and pleased with the comparison to his father. "I didn't think you'd want to…"

"Because of me and your father?" he finished. "I thought I'd have a hard time of it myself; you look almost exactly like him, except that you don't wear glasses. I guess that I just talked to you the way I would have done with Quentin, and it was easy. He's lucky to have you for a friend."

"Thank you," Connor felt the heat rising to his cheeks. "He's a great friend."

Mr. Malfoy shook Connor's hand and thanked him again, telling him to get well very soon, and departed, saying he had a portrait to destroy when he got home. Connor reflected on their conversation, and felt relieved to have made the decision, but worried about what consequences it might bring. Feeling tired, Connor decided to rest while he waited for the end of classes, hoping his friends would return, and fell into a deep sleep within minutes.

**_A/N - Thanks for those of you who reviewed so far - I treasure each one! I've had a couple of questions as to who Ivy's and Quentin's mothers are. Ivy's Mum went to Beauxbatons, though I have not been able to find her name in my notes just now. I'll ask Ivy the next time I talk to her. As for Quint's Mum, you've read here that her name is Monique - she was a Ravenclaw one year behind Draco in school, though she's not really important to the story (nor is Ivy's mother). Hope that clears things up for you, and sorry to those of you who were hoping that Neville would land with Luna - not in this story, anyway._**


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

_"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." - Oliver Wendell Holmes  
___

When Connor woke next, the sun had already set, and his parents were sitting at his bedside, holding hands and talking quietly. They hadn't noticed that he was awake, yet, and her glanced around to see if anyone else was near by. On a table beside his bed were three enormous bunches of flowers in an assortment of containers, and looked as though they had been stolen from Professor Wexler's greenhouses; he hoped that the Herbology teacher never found out about it, as he was fiercely protective of all of the plants in his care. There were cards scattered over the surface of another table, along with several packets of sweets presumably sent by various friends and cousins. It took a moment to register that his parents were talking about him, and Connor quickly closed his eyes again and lay still, hoping to hear something interesting.

"I just don't know whether to feel sick or angry or just plain pity the girl," he heard his mother saying. She must have seen his head move in her peripheral vision, because she leaned forward and straightened the blanket coving him before settling back into her chair. "To think that she's been listening to that awful portrait for over a year, letting it poison her and, and taint her."

"I never thought I'd feel sorry for Draco Malfoy," his father's low voice rumbled. "But he's got his work cut out repairing the damage that Bellatrix has done to his daughter. I know there isn't any love lost between us, but it's obvious after meeting Quentin that the Malfoys are trying to raise their children with proper morals."

"Yes," his mother agreed. "Who would have thought it? Prison seems to have done him a world of good."

"I was stunned when he said he wanted Connor to decide what would happen to his daughter," his father said thoughtfully. "I think at first I was convinced that it was some sort of trick on his part; old school rivalry coming to the surface and all that."

"He did come and talk to Connor," his Mum pointed out. "Do you think that he was pleading his case?"

"Probably," his Dad answered, but not sounding overly concerned. "Connor made the right choice, though he may come to regret it later. That girl is something else."

"It's not entirely her fault," his Mum said gently. "Bellatrix was insane and evil; just being in contact with her portrait has to have done her some damage that will take some time to heal. I can only imagine what that old (Connor's Mum said a word that stunned him) told Vanessa to make her act out like this."

"Ginny," his Dad sounded amused to hear his wife swear that way. "Language."

"Well it's true, isn't it?" his Mum demanded hotly. "I'd like to go to Malfoy Manor myself and personally take that portrait and…."

She must have made some sort of gesture in the air, because his father chuckled and suggested, "Why don't you? You're certainly entitled, and after Connor let their daughter stay in school, they'd probably be glad to let you have at it."

"I wish we didn't have to go home tonight," his Mum said with a wistful sigh. "But I can't miss out on anymore school; it's not fair to make Susan take it on all on her own."

"And I have to finish the broom that Mr. Prescott ordered," his dad said, also sounding disappointed.

Connor heard the scrape of a chair and a rustle of clothing, and wondered if his parents were preparing to leave right away. He opened his eyes and looked over, but his father had simple moved his chair closer to his mother's and had put his arm around her.

"Oh Connor!" his Mum said suddenly. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Hungry," he answered at once. As if to punctuate this statement, his stomach gurgled loudly and had his father chuckling. "But other than that, still a bit sore, I guess. Nothing I'd need a potion for, though," he added quickly.

"We'll let Madam Cosgrove be the judge of that," his Mum said, standing and kissing the top of his head. "You look a lot better, though. I'll go see about getting you some dinner."

His Mum left, and his Dad scooted his chair forward toward the bed, the better to talk to him. "Your friends came by after classes, but didn't want to wake you. They've gotten permission to come and see you after dinner, which should be starting just about now."

"Good," Connor answered. "I want to find out how far behind I'm falling in my classes."

"Connor," his father laughed. "You've only been in here for one day."

"It feels like a week," Connor said, shifting into a sitting position, glad that he didn't ache as much as he had that morning.

"I know," his Dad smiled. "I remember it well. I spend more time than I care to remember in this room, and Madam Pomfrey wasn't nearly as nice about visitors as Madam Cosgrove is. The pyjamas itched then too," he added, watching his son scratch at his arm.

"When will I be able to go back to Gryffindor Tower?" Connor asked, trying to keep his voice from sounding babyish.

"Maybe by tomorrow night," his dad answered, taking off his glasses for a moment and cleaning the lenses on the sleeve of his robes. "You still have a bit of bruising in your ribs and your eyes are still a bit blue underneath; you got your clock cleaned pretty good, and it'll take a little while longer to get back up to speed. Madam Cosgrove will probably make you get up tonight and walk up and down the isle a bit to see how your strength is holding up."

Connor groaned when he remembered his shaking trip to the toilet that morning. He wasn't looking forward to having an audience for his next trip, but he supposed that there was nothing for it.

"You did the right thing," his father said suddenly.

"Which thing are you talking about?" Connor asked curiously. "Letting myself get bashed in the head with a marble bust of Godric Gryffindor, or letting Vanessa stay in school."

"Well I was referring to letting Vanessa Malfoy stay," his father said with a raised eyebrow. "I really can't condone head bashing, you know."

"But did I do the right thing, anyway?" Connor asked. He really wanted his father's opinion about this, and needed to know that his parents were not disappointed in him.

His father sat for a minute, thinking it over, though Connor thought that he had probably already thought this through a million times since it had happened. "You did what I would have done," came the eventual answer. "And then Hermione would have come and scolded me, and told me that the logical thing to have done would be to have just stayed outside, pretending to have hurt myself somehow, until a teacher had come looking for me."

"Oh," Connor said sheepishly, his face flushing with embarrassment. Now that he thought about it, it _would_ have been the more sensible route to take. Still, he took some measure of comfort in knowing that his father would have made the same decisions that he had, overlooking a more obvious choice. "I guess that makes more sense, huh?"

"Probably. I talked to Hermione this morning, and she kind of pointed it out," his father admitted. "But I'll tell you what I told her; Vanessa would have tried again, and it might have been even worse, next time."

"Yeah," Connor said. "And at least now she'll have a much harder time harassing me, if she still wants to try. She's going to have detention _every day_."

"That might hurt her even more than you think," his dad said as his Mum came in floating a large tray on the tip of her wand. "This is Vanessa's O.W.L. year, and she's going to need every spare minute she has to study for them, and detention every day is going to cut into that."

"Don't you worry," his Mum said, setting down the tray, which held enough food for all of them to share a meal. "McGonagall will see that Vanessa is kept too busy to plot much."

They all sat together and ate their shepherd's pie, and talked about Gryffindor's chances for winning the Quidditch cup this year, and then when they were finished, Connor said his good-byes to his parents, who needed to get back to Headquarters, as they affectionately called their home. He promised to write to them very soon to let him know that he was okay, and how things were going, and then they were gone. Connor felt a little sad to see them leave, but was almost immediately pounced upon by Madam Cosgrove who, as his dad had predicted, set him the task of walking to the loo and then down the row of neatly made beds and back again until she was satisfied that he was sufficiently exercised.

By the time that Connor was helped back into bed, he was winded, but felt more energized than he had that morning. He was just looking through some of the cards that were propped up onto his table, when the door to the hospital wing burst in, and a large group rustled in. Zack, Quentin, Ivy, and Rachel lead the way, followed by a whole horde of Weasleys, all them looking relieved to see him awake and sitting up.

Aiden, along with brothers Jarod (a first year), and Shawn (a fifth year) gathered up chairs from beside other beds as they walked toward Connor's and everyone found a place to sit. Sarah and Marcus, their Blue Ravenclaw ties and patches tucked in among the Gryffindor red and gold, smiled at him, and Victoria and Rachel seemed to be having some sort of small but fierce argument as they came around to the side of the bed to settle down beside Quentin.

"Wow!" Connor was delighted to have so many visitors. "I'm surprised you were all allowed to come!"

"Well, Professor Lupin kind of smoothed things over a bit, and having the Head Girl to keep us all in line worked out in our favor," Aiden answered, pointing over at the Head Girl badge on the front of Sarah's robes.

"The whole Gryffindor Quidditch team wanted to come as well, but McG put her foot down," Aiden said.

"If she ever hears you calling her 'McG'," Ivy said with a giggle, "_you'll_ be in the hospital wing next."

Aiden shrugged as if he wasn't too worried about the possibility. "Mariah said to tell you that we start practicing again day after tomorrow, and that you'd better be ready to play by then."

"She did not!" said Sarah, looking horrified. "Look at him! He's still all beat up! There's no way Madam Cosgrove will be letting jump on a broom on Friday."

"This is nothing!" Aiden said confidently. "He looked way worse this morning when I poked my head in at break – you were asleep, mate – he'll be fine by the time we have to go to practice!"

"Ridiculous," Sarah muttered. "I love Quidditch as much as the next witch, but it's freezing outside, and Connor's just recovering from a very serious injury!"

"I'll be all right, Sarah," Connor said cheerfully. The thought of Quidditch cheered him enormously, even if it _was _freezing outside. "Madam Cosgrove is going to keep me here all day tomorrow, but I should be able to sleep in my own bed tomorrow night."

Everyone chattered excitedly about the match with Hufflepuff, (who had won the Quidditch Cup last year) which was coming up in two month's time. After a half an hour had passed, Sarah and Marcus excused themselves to go back to their common room to study, and Aiden, Shawn and Jarod decided to leave as well. Rachel and Victoria seemed to have settled whatever argument they'd been having, and Victoria hurried to catch up with Aiden to discuss a Charms essay they were supposed to be working on. Soon Connor was alone with Zack, Ivy, Rachel and Quentin, and settled down to hear what they had to say.

"Wow, Connor!" Ivy began. "What made you decide to let Vanessa stay?"

"Lots of things, I guess," he shrugged. "Quentin's dad came to talk to me, and that helped me sort it out a bit."

Quentin looked slightly surprised by this, but said nothing.

"Anyway," Zack said, noting that Quentin was still looking a little pale, and had done all day long. "If she doesn't already feel bad about what happened, she will soon enough. I overheard Professor Lupin today saying that he would be supervising her first week of detentions. Didn't he make you and Quint clean out all of the cages and tanks in the DADA room when you had detention with him?"

"Yeah," Connor said, giving a little shudder at the thought of all of the slime. "Yuck."

"Look guys," Quentin said suddenly. "I need to go. My parents are going to be leaving soon, and I wanted to see them before they left."

"Okay," Connor said, studying his friend and not missing the nervous look he'd been wearing. "But listen, I sort of told your dad about the portrait while we were talking; he said he was going to go home and destroy it. I hope that I didn't get you into trouble. I only told him because he was wondering why Vanessa was being so nasty, and I tried to make it sound like you had just stumbled upon it… I didn't go into details or anything."

Quentin swallowed and nodded, then said he would come back tomorrow before hurrying out.

"Has he been like that all day?" Connor asked his other friends as the door swung shut behind the retreating boy.

"Pretty much," Zack nodded. "He seems, I don't know, like he feels guilty."

Ivy nodded in agreement and looked a bit sad, "He won't make eye contact with anyone, and didn't even come to lunch today."

"Do you think it's because he feels guilty or because he's embarrassed?" Rachel asked shrewdly. "I mean, to have your sister do something that mean, people are probably going to say something to you."

"Have you heard anything?" Connor asked, shocked. Everyone knew that Quentin and his sister were complete opposites, didn't they?

"I haven't heard anything," Rachel said. "But then they're not likely to do it when his friends are standing around, are they?"

They talked about what Connor had missed in class that day, and Zack pulled out Connor's transfiguration book and some quills and parchment. "Professor Thompson wanted me to bring you your book so that you could answer the questions at the end of the section about Switching Spells. You and Quentin were apparently the only ones to get an "O" on the paper we handed in just before the holiday, so you don't have to do the essay the rest of us were set."

"Cool," Connor said, actually glad to have something to do to pass the time tomorrow while his friends attended class. He only smiled when Zack pulled out yet another book, and noticed that it was Potions.

"Because Potter failed to show up for class," Zack imitated Snape comically. "He can write a three foot essay on the properties of the Mandrake root as used in a Restorative Draught. To be handed in when this class meets again on Friday!"

"Okay," Connor said. He actually enjoyed potions, anyway, so this assignment shouldn't pose much of a problem. "It's not like I've got anything else to do in here."

"Unless it's your History of Magic work," Zack grinned, pulling out yet another book.

Connor groaned. "Tell me it's not bad."

"It's not bad," Ivy assured him. "Just a summary of the Five Day Goblin war of 1237."

"Anything else?" Connor asked.

"Not really," Zack said. "Flitwick just wants us to practice Reparo Charms, but you've been able to do that one for ages, so I wouldn't worry about those."

"Good, the History of Magic reading will probably put me to sleep, so I'll save that one for later tonight." He set all of the books on the table that Madam Cosgrove usually put his food try on. "So, have you guys made any progress with the articles Rachel brought from home? Did you use the map yet?"

"Ivy and I have been enlarging the articles and putting them into chronological order, but we haven't used the map yet. We wanted to wait for you." Rachel said.

"Thanks," Connor grinned. He had really been looking forward to trying it out and was glad that they had waited. "Maybe we can take a look at it when they let me out of here tomorrow."

After a few more minutes, Zack and Ivy said they needed to go and get started on their own homework, but Rachel told them to go on ahead, and stayed seated as they said goodbye to Connor.

"What's up, Cousin?" Connor asked when the other two had gone.

"I just wanted to have a chance to talk to you alone," she said. "We haven't talked, just the two of us, in ages. I've been worried about you today."

"I'm all right," Connor said, though he was pleased. Rachel had always been his closest cousin, and they had spent their childhoods together, getting their pre-Hogwarts schooling and playing together while their fathers worked on their broomstick designs.

"So what did you and Mr. Malfoy talk about?" she asked.

Connor told her about their conversation, and then told her, "When I told McGonagall that I wanted Vanessa to stay, she said it's what my father would have done."

"It isn't," Rachel said. "He wanted her kicked out."

Connor's eyes widened. "How do you know that?"

"Well when you were getting ready to take that potion last night, the one that was going to make you sleep, Professor Lupin herded us all out, and told us to go back to the Great Hall for what was left of dinner. We got to the corridor that leads down, and I heard your Mum and Dad talking as they were hurrying with McGonagall toward the hospital wing." Rachel said. "Professor Lupin had left us at the staircase, so I snuck back to hear what McGonagall had to say to your Mum and Dad."

"What happened?" Connor demanded. "I fell asleep almost as soon as they got there."

"Well you were still awake and you were talking to everyone, and then Madam Cosgrove gave you that stuff, and you fell asleep right away. As soon as your eyes closed, Uncle Harry turned to McGonagall and said, 'Who did this to my son?' and I thought he was going to explode. I expected him to start yelling, he looked so mad, but he never did. I had to get out my extendable ear and slide it under the door so I could hear what they were saying."

"Do you always carry an extendable ear in your pocket?" Connor asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Usually," she answered unconcernedly. She continued with her account of what had happened after the potion had made him go to sleep, and remembered it herself with a little shiver.

_"Who did this to my son?" her Uncle Harry had asked. His voice had been quiet and angry, and Rachel had shivered to hear the barely controlled fury behind it. "Was it really Peeves, or was he telling the truth about Vanessa Malfoy?"_

_ "I appears as if he was telling the truth, and that Miss Malfoy did indeed enlist the help of Peeves to execute what she called a 'prank' in which no one was supposed to have been hurt," Professor McGonagall had answered. "It seems very possible at this point that it will be necessary to expel Miss Malfoy from Hogwarts."_

_ "Why hasn't she already been expelled?" Aunt Ginny had asked, her face very white in contrast to Uncle Harry's very red one._

_ "I am still investigating the matter. Peeves seems to realize that he was in very real trouble and is, for once, cooperating. Miss Malfoy is currently in my office with her head of house, awaiting the arrival of her parents, and I will be rejoining them shortly to really get to the bottom of this. You are, of course, free to come and hear what she has to say for herself. It is probable that she will not be staying in this castle beyond the next twenty four hours, and there will be Ministry officials to contact to confiscate or destroy her wand."_

_ Uncle Harry had flinched at this, but then had looked at Connor lying in the bed in front of him, as Madam Cosgrove applied a thick layer of some sort of paste to the side of his son's head, and his resolve had hardened. "I want to hear what she has to say."_

_ "Of course," Professor McGonagall had agreed. "But I must warn you that you will not be permitted to disrupt the meeting, or threaten any member of the Malfoy family in any way. You may come and observe and ask questions if questions are appropriate, but you must control your temper."_

_ Rachel would have laughed at the way Professor McGonagall was treating her Aunt and Uncle as though they were still students, if the matter hadn't been so horrible. Connor really looked hurt, and watching him take that disgusting smoking potion had been awful. She hoped that the Ministry would show up soon and snap Vanessa's wand in half right in front of her pointy little smug face and chuck her out into the Muggle world._

_ "The Malfoys should be arriving at any moment. Why don't the two of you go along to my office while I go down to meet them? We will join you shortly." It wasn't a request, and Rachel realized that she needed to get out of there or she would be discovered. Luckily the sound of many feet traveling from the Great Hall began to fill the corridors, and Rachel yanked back the extendable ear and stuffed it in her pocket before scurrying off to join the crowd of students heading to their common rooms to get ready for the day of classes ahead of them._

"But," Connor said when Rachel finished telling him everything she had seen and heard. "My dad told me that I did the right thing when I said she could stay at Hogwarts."

Rachel shrugged. "He must have calmed down quite a bit, then. Maybe once he heard what Vanessa and Malfoys had to say, he changed his mind, but last night he looked and sounded perfectly capable of destroying her wand himself."

"I guess." Connor didn't mention the fact that Rachel's mother had instantly thought of a way that all of this could have been avoided, and said good-bye to his favorite cousin, promising to work on his homework.


	24. Chapter 23

**Hi All! Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who's take the time to review and to ask if anyone is still reading this - I have no way of tracking how many hits I'm getting, so the only way I know if you're interested in my continuing to post here is if you review - even if it's just to say you're following along. Thanks!**

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** Chapter 23**

_"You can never plan the future by the past." – Edmund Burke_

Connor spent the next morning doing his assignments and being walked around the hospital wing by Madam Cosgrove until he proved he could do so without assistance or over-tiring. Just before lunch, she finally made him take one last dose of anti-bruising potion with a mild pain reliever, and allowed him to bathe and get dressed in his Hogwarts uniform.

"I'm leaving it up to you to decide whether or not you feel up to attending the remainder of today's classes," she told him. "I have a note here for you that will excuse for _today only_ from any of your remaining classes should you begin to tire or feel ill."

Connor pocketed the note, but knew that he would not use it unless absolutely necessary, or he'd wind up spending another night in the hospital wing. Madam Cosgrove promised that she would have his books and homework, the cards and sweets that had accumulated on his tables sent up to his room, if he would like to go and join his classmates for lunch, which would be starting in just ten minutes. They only had double Herbology this afternoon with the Ravenclaws, so there was no problem there unless Professor Wexler had found out about all of the stolen flowers Connor had received. He could share a book with one of his friends if necessary, but he wasn't going to hike all the way up to Gryffindor tower and back again unless he had no choice.

He left the hospital wing with a nasty taste in his mouth from the potions he'd just taken, and looked forward to a nice cold glass of pumpkin juice to wash it away. The corridors were still deserted as he walked down to the Great Hall, but he knew that classes would be dismissed any moment now. On the main staircase, Connor spotted Peeves floating high above, tormenting the occupants of one of the hundreds of moving portraits handing about the walls. Connor shrugged to himself, feeling no particular anger toward the poltergeist; it seemed unfair to really blame him since Vanessa had tricked _him_ too, but he wasn't especially happy about seeing him. Further down the stairs, he noticed a slightly-larger-than-life-sized bust of Godric Gryffindor on a pedestal in an alcove in the wall, and stopped to stare at it. If this was the offending missile in his attack, he could well understand how his injuries had occurred; it must weigh some five hundred pounds! Shaking his head, he walked into the empty Great Hall and chose a seat near the middle of the table that looked over all of the other tables. He had barely taken his seat when the bell to dismiss classes could be heard gonging through the school and grounds, and soon the thunder of hundreds of hungry students could be heard echoing through the halls. The platters of food for the afternoon meal appeared almost as soon as the bell to dismiss the classes had sounded.

"Connor!" many of the students greeted him. "How are you feeling?" "Did you really have all of your ribs broken?" "I heard that Vanessa Malfoy did it; is it true?"

Connor answered most of the questions as best he could, and was relieved when Aiden arrived to sit beside him, and Ivy, Quentin and Zack followed shortly after. Rachel was late to arrive, explaining that she had actually gone over to the hospital wing to peak in and say hello, only to find him gone. A few students from other houses came over to say that they were glad he was all right, and Connor was pleased to see that so many people seemed genuinely glad to see him back. Even Andrew came over briefly before going to his own seat to say, "I'm glad you're better."

Lunch was a noisy affair, and Connor kept trying to catch Quentin's eye to let him know silently that he didn't blame him in any way for what happened to him, but Quentin wouldn't meet his gaze. He _did_ spot Vanessa at the Slytherin table, though. She was surrounded by a group of students who were all leaning toward each other and talking excitedly, and did not look up at him. Connor didn't recognize any of the group as students she had associated with before, but he had never really paid all that much attention before, so he could have been wrong. It didn't really matter one way or the other, anyway.

When lunch ended, Connor got up from the table with Zack, Quentin and Ivy and crossed the main entry hall toward the front doors. He looked briefly to the spot where he'd been standing when the bust had hit him, then turned his eyes forward, only to find Vanessa standing in his path. All of his friends stopped as well, stiffening as if preparing for a confrontation. Other students paused in their walking when they saw what was happening, and Connor could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. Just because he had decided to let her stay at the school didn't mean he had forgiven her for what she had done. He was still angry and wasn't ready to deal with her face-to-face yet.

"They're making me apologize to you for what happened," she told him defiantly. "So I apologize."

"Save it," Connor spat. "We both know you're not sorry."

He pushed past her, ignoring everyone else, but knowing that Ivy and Zack were right behind him. It wasn't until he heard Vanessa say, "Some brother _you_ are," that he spun around to see the object of his anger shove Quentin out of her way and stalk off with her nose in the air.

"Come on, Quint," Zack said, walking back to pull him along by his sleeve.

Quentin nodded, but only followed with his eyes on the ground, and misery in his expression. Connor wanted to find a way to make his friend feel better, but couldn't think of anything to say without knowing exactly what was going through Quentin's mind. Before he could work out anything to say to Quentin, the other kids in their year caught up with them and surrounded Connor, hoping to hear his story first hand and making amazed comments about the fact that Vanessa was being allowed to stay at school. He was glad when they reached the greenhouses, and everyone quieted down.

He thought about trying to get a seat near Quentin in the steamy greenhouse so that they could talk, but didn't think that anything they might say to each other would be something they'd want anyone else to hear. His friend was seriously troubled about something, and Connor wanted to find out what it was to set both of their minds at ease. He was beginning to wonder if maybe Quentin was mad at _him_ for any of this, and he resolved to get his friend on his own after class to do so.

The two-hour lesson was mostly a practical one, so Connor didn't have to worry about not having his book with him. Ivy said that he could borrow her notes on everything later, and he was lucky enough to be sharing a Shrivelfig tree with her as they worked to prune the strange, short and spiky leafed tree without damaging or pruning away any of it's precious blossoms. This was made more difficult by the fact that the tree didn't seem to want pruning, and frequently stabbed at the students' hands as they approached it with the pruning shears. Even with the protection of dragon-hide gloves, the air was punctuated with angry exclamations as arms or cheeks were pricked by their leaves. Ivy, having famous herbologists for parents, could practically do this job blindfolded, and so she was able spend most of the class giving Connor one-on-one instruction. They finished long before anyone else, and were permitted to start on their homework assignment to fill the time until the end of the period. Connor enlisted Ivy's help to get Quentin on his own by having her drag Zack away after class, to which she gladly agreed; she was worried about their friend as well.

When the bell rang, they started off toward the castle, and Ivy dutifully dragged Zack away on the pretense of needing his help in the Library with some Charms work, and Connor grabbed Quentin by the sleeve and pulled him into an empty classroom off the main entrance hall.

"What are you doing?" Quentin asked in surprise as Connor shut the door and locked it. He seemed slightly nervous, but made no move toward the door.

"I want to know what's wrong with you," Connor said without preamble.

"Nothing," Quentin sighed, seemingly resigned.

"How can you say that nothing's wrong when you won't even look at me?" Connor asked in exasperation. "Are you mad at me?"

That question brought Quentin's head up sharply. "Me? Mad at you? Why would I be?"

"That's what I'd like to know!" Connor answered. "You've hardly talked to me at all, I asked you to come back and talk to me in the hospital wing and you didn't, and now you won't even look at me. What am I supposed to think?"

Quentin just looked at Connor for a few moments, seemingly having an internal struggle before saying sadly, "I'm _ashamed_, all right?"

Connor didn't know what to say to this extraordinary announcement; it certainly wasn't what he had been expecting to hear.

"I'm ashamed of what my family used to be like, and that my dad had to go to prison before he realized what a stupid git he was. I'm afraid that Vanessa is going to end up in jail too, because some crazy woman in a portrait was telling her all that insane stuff, telling her that she's better than everyone else. You know what else?" Quentin was breathing heavily now, as if a dam had burst inside of him and he as determined to purge everything that had been backed up behind it. "I'm angry! I'm just so _mad_ that she thinks that it's okay to hurt you like that because she was trying to prove something. That she thinks that I should stop being your friend and see you the way that _she_ does. _I don't_ _care_ if it makes me a blood-traitor to be your friend or a, a …."

"Whoa!" Connor said sharply, holding up a hand to stem the flow of emotion pouring out of his friend. He was sincerely shocked at this, and was determined to put an end to this line of thinking right away. "A blood-traitor? What is that supposed to mean? Come on, Quint, you don't really believe in all that purist rubbish! Is that what Vanessa told you?"

"No," Quentin said quietly, not making eye contact anymore. "Yes. I mean, she did, but first it was that portrait. Bellatrix."

"Quint," Connor said quietly, an ache building in his chest at seeing his friend to down trodden. "No offense against your family or anything, but Bellatrix Lastrange was a deranged lunatic. You can't really take anything that her mad portrait says seriously. Your family may have had its share of dark wizards in it, but that's not how they are _now_. I talked to your dad, and I can tell you that he isn't like that anymore, either; but you don't need me to tell you that because you already _know_ it."

"But you could have died!" Quentin said, as if Connor as being particularly thick in the head. "You should be furious!"

"But I didn't die!" Connor said. "And I _am_ furious, but none of that is your fault. You warned me that Vanessa was planning something, and I still walked right into it, knowing that it wasn't going to be pretty."

"So you're not mad at me?" Quentin asked uncertainly, not daring to believe it.

"Nope," Connor said simply.

"I'm still really sorry about what happened."

"Me too," Connor answered. He was a bit tired, and so he led the way out into the mostly empty corridor and walked in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. "Especially since my father pointed out that I could have avoided all of this by just refusing to come inside the castle until a teacher came for me."

"Why didn't you?" Quentin asked, as if it were the most obvious solution in the world.

"I didn't think of it," Connor said, blushing slightly at his own stupidity. "So as you can see, it was partially my own fault for being so thick."

"I probably wouldn't have thought of it either," Quentin admitted. "And if she hadn't gotten you that time, she would have tried again."

"That's what I thought, too," Connor agreed.

"So things are okay between us?" Quentin asked sounding relieved.

"Never better," Connor confirmed, punching him lightly on the arm.

They returned to the common room, both grinning as they talked about the more comfortable subject of tomorrow's Quidditch practice, and Ivy and Zack smiled to see them talking again. They all shared a table and worked on their homework so that they would have time later to look through some of the news articles and try out the map later. Connor wasn't too upset to find out that Professor Lupin had assigned them an essay on the differences between fairies, pixies and doxies, since he had finished all of the work that Zack had brought him the previous night. He set to work, occasionally distracted by one of his housemates who stopped to see how he was feeling or hoping to hear his account of events. It seemed that everyone was aware that something more was happening than what they were being told, but no one could figure it out. Connor didn't enlighten them.

Once everyone's homework was done, they all went to dinner, and then went straight to the Library, choosing the most secluded table they could find. Rachel pulled a folder with the enlarged articles in it, all sorted by date, and they gathered around to see what they contained.

"I took a look at them by headline," Rachel told them. None of them say anything about the Department of Mysteries, but I did find some about the battle at the Ministry, though the details are very sketchy. Look at this one: _HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS****_"

Rachel read them the article, which was apparently published two days after the battle at the Ministry, though no battle was mentioned in the article. It simply stated that Lord Voldemort had returned, that the Dementors had joined him, and that Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter had been telling the truth all along after over a year of accusing them of trying to incite the Wizarding public to hysteria.

"Wow," Zack said. "I can't believe that even the newspaper was afraid to print Voldemort's name!"

"Well," Ivy said. "No offense, but being a Muggle, and not hearing about him until twenty years later, you can't really understand the terror he inspired. My own father told me once that he never spoke his name until he was sixteen years old."

"It's still hard to believe," Zack said.

They divided up the articles, and began to read, but found very little in the way of information about the Department of Mysteries. They were just about to give up for the night, when Quentin suddenly said, "I think I've got something here. It's an article about Samantha Tillman. It's not much, but at least she's mentioned. It's dated about two months after she disappeared." He read the article to them. "_Ministry worker, Samantha Tillman, 38, an Unspeakable with the Ministry of Magic is still missing, pursuant to the incident that took place on the same night that He Who Must Not Be Named showed himself to be active once more. Death Eaters were found and arrested in the Ministry of Magic after several Ministry workers witnessed the presence of You Know Who, and it is believed that Mrs. Tillman, who was supposed to be working in the Department of Mysteries at the time, was the Death Eater's contact on the inside, who gave them access to normally forbidden areas of the Ministry. Samantha's husband vehemently denies this accusation, as does her son, who recently completed his final year at Hogwarts. Sources close to the family expressed concern and disbelief when questioned, but could give no further insight as to the whereabouts of Mrs. Tillman."_

"That's it?" Connor asked, frustrated.

Quentin nodded. "At least we know we're on the right track. Unspeakables work in the Department of Mysteries."

"Well it's getting late, and Madam Pince is going to kick us out of here soon," Ivy said. "Let's put everything back in order. I know I'd like a chance to read those articles from starting date to the end, sometime."

They all agreed that each of them wanted to do the same, and once they were back in the folder, Rachel put it in her bag, and Connor pulled out the large blank parchment that his Uncle George had assured him was a map. It was folded in the same way as when he had first discovered it, and so he unfolded it and laid it flat in the middle of the table, where they could all see it. They all looked around anxiously to be sure that they were the only ones around, and then Connor pulled out his wand, touched it to the parchment, and stated quietly and clearly, "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_."

All of them gasped slightly as lines began to appear over the surface of the parchment from the points where his wand touched it, thin and fine as spider webs in some areas and thick and bold in others. The lines chased across the surface, intersecting with each other and forming the outlines of the castle and grounds until every bit of the parchment was covered, and at the top, green curly letters appeared, forming the words:

_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs_

_Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers_

_are proud to present_

_The Marauder's Map_

"This has got to be the coolest thing I have ever seen," Zack said with a huge grin splitting his face.

"Look at this!" Ivy said excitedly, remembering to keep her voice low. She was pointing to the far left corner of the map.

A tiny dot seemed to be traveling in tiny circles, and it was labeled Minerva McGonagall. After a few moments, the circling stopped, and the dot began moving in a line down a corridor toward a staircase.

"She must have just come from her office," Connor said, remembering the spiral staircase that lead to the Headmistress's office.

They silently watched, with rapt attention, as she traveled through the school toward the dungeons.

"Look," Connor said after a moment, "Here we are!"

He pointed to the Library, and they saw the dots that represented the five of them, all crowded around the table. Connor's heart gave a terrible lurch in his chest when he looked at the rest of the area, and saw that a dot labeled, "Moony" was traveling in their direction.

"Mischief managed!" he said quickly, touching the parchment. The lines seemed to absorb into the surface of the paper and disappear, and Connor quickly folded it up and shoved it under the table, where Rachel's hand reached over to take it from him and slipped it into her bag. A moment later Professor Lupin turned the corner around a line of bookshelves and looked at their guilty faces with wry humor.

"Okay," he said. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing!" they all said in unison, making the professor snort in amused disbelief. He studied them for a moment, and then decided to let it pass, while resolving to keep an eye on them in the near future.

"Well it's time you were all in bed," he stated. "Up to the Common Room with you!"

They all nodded and hurriedly gathered their things together. As they were filing out of the Library, Professor Lupin asked Connor to stay behind for a moment, and everyone was glad that Rachel now had the map in her possession. They started the walk up to Gryffindor Tower, and resolved to wait until everyone was gone to bed before they activated the map again. They hoped that Professor Lupin wouldn't hold up Connor for too long.

"So Harry," Professor Lupin asked quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel all right," Connor answered, feeling slightly distracted and eager to get back to studying the Marauder's Map. "A bit tired, I suppose."

"Yes, you'll probably have to work a bit to get back to full speed."

"Well Quidditch practice tomorrow night should help with that," Connor said. He hoped that he was talking to his uncle instead of his head of house.

"Connor," Lupin began disapprovingly, sounding as if he were about to start a lecture. Something in Connor's gaze gave him pause, however, and he simply said, "Please be careful."

They began to walk slowly in the direction his friends had just gone, and Connor understood that his uncle had simply wanted to assure himself that his 'nephew' was doing okay.

"I will," he promised. "I don't want to go back to the hospital wing for a long, _long_ time. Madam Cosgrove gives the most foul potions imaginable."

"We don't want you back there, either," Lupin replied fervently. "You scared us all to death. I think you must have taken at least a year off of my life."

Connor looked up at his uncle, and noted that his hair seemed to have more white in it than usual. There was very little of the light sandy brown that the pictures hanging back in Potter Headquarter claimed he had once had. By Wizarding standards of aging, Remus Lupin was supposedly only a third of the way through his life, but the monthly transformations had taken their toll on his body, even with the wolfsbane potion, making his look prematurely aged.

"I heard that you got to dish out the first week of Vanessa's detention," Connor said as they climbed a flight of stairs, ignoring the whispering portraits on the walls as they went.

"Good news travels fast," came the amused reply. "Yes. I was assigned her first week's worth of detentions. I think that the Grindylows appreciate her efforts to improve their habitat."

Connor grinned. "Isn't there a really big Gryffindor trophy somewhere that needs to be polished? Without magic?"

"I can think of several," Lupin smiled in return, willing to indulge the boy a bit. "I'll see what I can find."

They made their way through the corridors until they came to the portrait of the Fat Lady, and Connor said goodnight to his uncle, already thinking ahead to the uses they could put the Map to. "Stickleback!" he told the Fat Lady. He climbed through the portrait hole and found his friends waiting for him in the empty common room, so they could plan an adventure.

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Friday passed excruciatingly slowly for Connor. Professor Snape had been in a particularly foul temper that morning, and had docked Gryffindor fifteen points because Connor was had received full marks on his essay about Mandrakes as used in restorative draughts, while all of the other Gryffindors had floundered, none of them managing to get higher than an "A" in the same work.

"That man is twisted," Zack grumbled as they left the dungeons. "I don't know why he teaches here when it's obvious that he hates the students."

Double Charms had followed Potions, and while Charms was normally an interesting class, Flitwick was apparently feeling under the weather, and had asked them to quietly take notes from the blackboard, and then read. By lunchtime, Connor was flagging a bit, but he was pretty sure that his malaise had little to do with his recent stay in the hospital wing, and more to do with the fact that the sky outside was cloudy, and the mood inside was dreary. He consoled himself with the fact that he had Quidditch to look forward to that afternoon, and thought about the little prank he and his friends had made up with the help of the Marauder's Map; they weren't going to dare anything too big, but something clever enough to amuse them. They simply needed to choose a victim to test the map's accuracy on.

That problem was solved easily enough in the short break between Transfiguration and History of Magic that afternoon. Mariah had sought out Connor, Ivy and Quentin in the freezing courtyard to tell them that Quidditch practice had been cancelled, because Professor Snape had given more than half of the team detention that evening for various invented infractions.

"Right then," Connor seethed as he watched Mariah walk away, searching out other team members who had thus far avoided detention with Snape that day. "Snape it is. Tomorrow after breakfast."

Quentin, Zack and Ivy all grinned, and when they passed Rachel in the hall and told her they'd found their victim, she simply said, "Perfect. That greasy git gave me detention tonight for reading a chapter ahead of the rest of the class."

Perhaps the day was looking up after all.

**_A/N - Actual article is in The Order of the Phoenix – Chapter 38, page 745 of the British hard cover edition._**


	25. Chapter 24

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**A/N - Thanks to those of you who are still reading along, I love to hear from you, even if it is just to point out my mistakes!!**

**Lydia Boyle** – Thanks for much for pointing out my error – I totally missed that, and will see about fixing that ASAP! Ivy will come forward a bit in the next couple of chapters, and hopefully we'll all get to know her a bit better!

**Lady Lupin Lover** – Here's your prank – I hope it lives up to expectations.

**Lyra and Lizzy87** ** -**Thanks for your encouragement! It's easy to get discouraged when I think no one's reading.

**Rachel Reeds** – Thanks – someone else pointed that out too – it was definitely an error, and I'll have it fixed soon.

**Chapter 24**

_"Every problem has a gift for you in its hands." –Richard Bach_

Saturday morning was dark and dreary, with frozen rain falling, mixed with snow. Thunder grumbled from within the cement colored clouds that were reflected in the ceiling of the Great Hall. Everyone just knew that this weather would make the grounds a mess, and the mood in the castle was generally gloomy, since no one in their right minds would be outside in such weather. The breakfast table was quieter than usual, since there weren't really any students making plans on how to spend their weekend or looking forward to Quidditch. Connor looked around at his friends, and hid the grin that threatened to crack his face in two, not wanting his cousins asking what he was looking so gleeful about. Ivy winked at him, a small smile playing on her mouth, and Rachel was talking in a low voice to Quentin. Zack looked impatient, and as soon as he had eaten the last of his porridge, he stood up.

"Let's go find something to do," he said significantly.

The others nodded and stood as well, leaving the Great Hall, where a lot of the students were still lingering, since there was not much else that was better to do.

"Do you think we've got this timed well enough?" Ivy asked worriedly as they walked toward the stairway leading to the dungeons.

"Quit worrying," Zack said. "We timed it all last night, didn't we? It's going to be fine.

They all stopped at the top of the stairway. "Okay, you all know what to do," Connor said confidently. Zack, Rachel, Ivy and Quentin all nodded, their eyes gleaming in anticipation. "You have to remember that it has to be the same _every time_, or you'll ruin it. No laughing."

"We know, Connor!" Rachel groused. "We practiced it a hundred times last night."

"Okay, then," Connor smiled. "Let's do it." Connor stood in the center of his friends, up against a wall to check the map away from prying eyes. "Snape's in his office, at his desk," he reported. "_Mischief managed_!"

Putting the map in his pocket, he followed the others through the corridors and down the stairs to the first floor, next to the staircase that led down to the dungeons. They checked the map once more, and then got into position and waited. It didn't take long for a first year student with a green Slytherin insignia on his robes to pass by, and Quentin called out to him.

"Hey!" he said to the younger boy. "Are you going past Snape's office?"

The boy stopped and nodded, a bit nervously, probably recognizing Quentin as Vanessa Malfoy's little brother.

"Could you do me a favor and tell him that Filch is looking for him up on the fourth floor?" Quentin asked politely. "He's in a snit about something and wants Snape up there, and I really don't fancy spending the day in detention just because I'm not a Slytherin."

The boy looked wary, as if afraid that this group of Gryffindors was about to pounce, but they all stood there looking bored. The boy paused for a moment then nodded with a small shrug.

"Thanks, mate!" Quentin said, sounding genuinely pleased. He tossed the boy a Chocolate Frog, which he caught automatically. "You're a life saver."

He motioned for the others to follow him away from the staircase as though they didn't have a care in the world and waited until they were sure the boy had gone.

"In here!" Connor hissed, tapping a tapestry, depicting several nuns standing beside a well, with his wand and saying, "_Students is needing their linens_!" The tapestry fell away from the wall slightly, and they pulled it back to expose a narrow passageway, which they all crowded through when no one was coming.

They had thoroughly examined the map while devising their little prank, and discovered that there was a network of narrow passageways throughout the school that Rachel had surmised were, or had once been, used by house elves to move about the school unseen.

"But can't house elves Apparate?" Connor had asked in confusion when she had stated her theory.

"Many of them can," Rachel had agreed. She was a veritable fountain of information about house elves, since her mother had always been one of their biggest crusaders. "But not all of them. It's also a talent that they only acquire once they reach a certain age, if at all. Hogwarts has so many of them, that it's a good bet that some of them would need passages like these to get around without getting underfoot."

They had checked out this particular passage the previous evening (since there was no Quidditch practice), and found it to be apparently deserted. However the students were getting their linens these days, it didn't seem to be through here; the narrow corridors were dusty and the air was stale. The tapestry sealed itself behind them, and they all lit their wands.

"It's a good thing I'm not claustrophobic," Quentin said, his shoulders lightly scraping along the rough, stone walls. "Another couple of years and we won't be able to fit in here anymore."

They could hear Connor ahead of them mutter, "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!_" He was obviously checking that the student they had waylaid was performing the task they'd asked of him. "He's at Snape's door right now," he reported to the others, hurrying as fast as he dared to the end of the little hallway. He stopped to study the map, noting that there was a stairway to his right, and a passage out of where they were standing immediately to his left. "Snape's leaving his office and heading up the stairs. We need to get out of here and get into place."

Connor turned to his left, and tapped at a spot in the wall with his wand, and after a small _click_ was heard, a portrait swung outward, expelling the students into the main corridor of the first floor, not far from the staircase that lead up to the second. They extinguished their wands, and Ivy, Rachel and Quentin stood together in a group, with Ivy facing the wall holding up her Magical Theory textbook, and Quentin and Rachel leaning against the wall. Beside them, Connor and Zack each pulled a stack of chocolate frog cards from the pockets of their robes, and they all waited. Zack had the best view off all of them of the end of the corridor where Snape would be appearing, and so he was the look out. When the Professor came around the corner, he gave the rest of them their cue by speaking to Connor.

"No, I've already got one of those. What I really need is a second edition Dumbledore."

"Second edition?" Connor scoffed, shuffling through the cards in his hand. "Good luck! How about a Morgan La Fey?"

Meanwhile, Quentin began his conversation with Ivy and Rachel. "I just don't think it makes that big of a difference," he said, as if they had been discussing something all along. "It's the force of will and intention behind the spell that's the most important."

"In theory, maybe," Rachel replied, flipping her long hair behind her dramatically. "But then why do Professors Flitwick and McGonagall always tell us to be so careful about pronouncing the words of incantations clearly and correctly?"

"No," Zack said to Connor as Snape walked past them with a sneer. They all ignored him. "I've got three of those; do you have an Agrippa?"

"Yeah," Connor said, "I think I have an extra. What will you give me for it?"

"Yes," Ivy chimed in. "But saying the words aloud and correctly helps the caster to focus properly so that the spell is…. He's gone!"

All of them looked to see that Snape had indeed turned the corner to go in the direction of the staircase that would take him to the second floor. They all turned and scrambled back through the portrait they had come out of only a couple of minutes before and sprinted up the narrow stairs to the second floor, taking a moment to check the map to make sure the coast was clear before exiting and positioning themselves once more in the corridor, not far from the staircase to the third floor. They got into the exact same positions that they had been in previously, and worked to catch their breaths and make sure that they were standing in the right places and had the book open to the same page, and the chocolate frog cards arranged correctly.

"No, I've already got one of those," Zack began, signaling the others that Snape had just turned the corner and was on his way toward them. "What I really need is a second edition Dumbledore."

"Second edition?" Connor scoffed, shuffling through the cards in his hand as he listened for the Potions Master's footsteps. "Good luck! How about a Morgan La Fey?"

Right on cue, Quentin began his conversation with Ivy and Rachel. "I just don't think it makes that big of a difference," he said, he part well memorized by now. "It's the force of will and intention behind the spell that's the most important."

"In theory, maybe," Rachel replied, she was careful to flip her hair again, with the same amount of drama as before. "But then why do Professors Flitwick and McGonagall always tell us to be so careful about pronouncing the words of incantations clearly and correctly?"

"No," Zack said to Connor as Snape walked past them again, this time eyeing them beadily, walking slowly with a furrow in his brow. They all ignored him again, this time for fear of losing their composure. "I've got three of those; do you have an Agrippa?"

"Yeah," Connor said, "I think I have an extra. What will you give me for it?"

"Yes," Ivy jumped into the conversation with Rachel and Quentin. "But saying the words aloud and correctly helps the caster to focus properly so that the spell is as accurate as possible. Very advanced wizards might be able to cast without using the actual words, especially some of the weaker spells, but for most witches and wizards, it's really necessary to…. It's all clear, let's go!"

Once again they dashed into the hidden passage and up a hidden set of stairs to the third floor, and waited for Connor to give the all clear. "This one's going to be close!" he muttered, studying the map, mentally willing the student showing up on it to hurry up and turn a corner so that they wouldn't be spotted. "Go! Go now, and _hurry_!"

They again emerged from behind a large portrait of King Arthur, who was currently arguing with a knight bearing a blue shield. The kids paid no attention to them as they quickly arranged themselves as they had before, and it was only moments before Zack was starting it all over again.

"No, I've already got one of those," Zack began. "What I really need is a second edition Dumbledore."

"Second edition?" Connor's voice held the same amount of scorn as before as he expertly shuffled through the cards in his hand. "Good luck! How about a Morgan La Fey?"

Meanwhile, Quentin began his conversation with Ivy and Rachel. "I just don't think it makes that big of a difference," he said, waving his hand as he had the other times. "It's the force of will and intention behind the spell that's the most important."

"In theory, maybe," Rachel replied again with the requisite hair flip. "But then why do Professors Flitwick and McGonagall always tell us to be so careful about pronouncing the words of incantations clearly and correctly?"

"No," Zack said to Connor. He was having trouble keeping a straight face, because Snape had come to a halt when he spotted the students and stared at them for a moment before looking back behind him, then staring ahead again. He finally shook his head and began to walk past them, staring at them as they pretended to be immersed in their own conversations and unaware of his presence. "I've got three of those; do you have an Agrippa?"

"Yeah," Connor said, having equal trouble, but forcing himself not to snicker as he kept up his part. "I think I have an extra. What will you give me for it?"

"Yes," Ivy voice was admirably calm and controlled as she recited her lines. "But saying the words aloud and correctly helps the caster to focus properly so that the spell is as accurate as possible. Very advanced wizards might be able to cast without using the actual words, especially some of the weaker spells, but for most witches and wizards, it's really necessary to use the words and wand together for maximum effect."

"But what about wandless magic?" Quentin asked, trying to sound annoyed. Professor Snape looked as though he wanted to say something to them, but none of them made eye contact with him, or acted as though they even realized his was there.

"Well that's different, isn't it?" Rachel asked smugly, scratching her nose and turning a page or two in her book as though she was looking for some fact. "There are only a handful of wizards truly accomplished in that area, like Uncle Harry. Most wizards will never even master the basics of wandless magic; it takes a singularly focused mind to manage it."

As soon as the Professor slowly turned the corner toward the staircase to the fourth floor, Connor pulled the map from his robes, and activated it. They all gathered around to watch, and laughed as they noted that he appeared to be practically running up the stairs and hurrying down the corridor to the spot they might have appeared near the staircase to the fifth floor. Instead, Connor wiped the map blank and the five of them hurried down to their first position, where Snape had first spotted them. They had taken the warning they had been given at Christmas to heart, and didn't want to risk being caught in the hallways with the map activated. They checked to make sure that no one who might ask questions was coming before checking the map again, and watched Snape search the fourth floor for Filch, who was currently standing in a broom closet on the seventh floor. Apparently giving up his search for the caretaker, Snape turned and began the descent back toward his office.

They all got into position when he reached the bottom of the steps on the first floor, and Connor wiped the map and hurriedly stuffed it in his pocket. It was all they could do not to burst into hysterical laughter when Professor Snape spotted them. He came to a dead stop at the end of the corridor and stared at them angrily, then headed toward them purposefully.

"No, I've already got one of those. What I really need is a second edition Dumbledore."

"Second edition?" Connor scoffed, shuffling through the cards in his hand, hoping that he could finish this off without cracking a rib. "Good luck! How about a Morgan La Fey?"

Quentin dutifully began his conversation with Ivy and Rachel. "I just don't think it makes that big of a difference," he said, careful to use the same hand movement as before. "It's the force of will and intention behind the spell that's the most important."

"In theory, maybe," Rachel replied, flipping her hair with a slightly shaking hand. He face was only a bit pinker that usual. "But then why do Professors Flitwick and McGonagall always tell us to be so careful about pronouncing the words of incantations clearly and correctly?"

"No," Zack said to Connor as Snape stopped only feet from them all. They all continued on, doing their best to ignore him. "I've got three of those; do you have an Agrippa?"

"Yeah," Connor said, "I think I have an extra. What will you give me for it?"

"_What are you all up to_?" Snape demanded suddenly, sounding absolutely furious.

Connor didn't have to fake the sudden startle reflex that made him jump at the sound of the Professor's voice. He turned around, arranging his expression to one of polite puzzlement.

"Well since there's freezing rain outside today, we can't go outdoors."

"And someone let off a whole load of dung bombs in our common room," Ivy added making a disgusted face, so we can't go there."

"And Madam Pince chased us out of the Library," Quentin added. "We need somewhere to wait until we could either go outside, or back to the common room."

"Here seemed as good as anyplace else," Connor shrugged.

"Professor?" Rachel's expression was pure innocence. "We were just discussing how important it is to clearly pronounce and incantation, could you tell us if…."

"I couldn't possibly care less about what you were discussing," Professor Snape said nastily, his eyes traveling over each of them in turn, obviously looking for something to punish them over. "Five points from Gryffindor for wasting my time. Now go back to your common room, and stay there, before I deduct even more points from you for blocking the hallway. I don't want to see any of you again today, or I'll give you a place to spend the afternoon that will be less than pleasant."

"Yes, Professor," they said in unison.

They all turned and headed back up to Gryffindor tower, and managed to hold their laughter in until they were sure they were out of earshot of the Professor. They took out the map and watched as the Professor hurried down to his office. He went to a cabinet for a moment, and then the dot bearing his name went to the desk and became stationary. No doubt he had felt the need for a potion to calm him or relieve a headache.

They were laughing so hard; it took them a full minute to manage to get enough breath to give the password to the Fat Lady, and scrambled through the portrait hole clutching their sides in their mirth.

"That was _so_ worth having to crush rattlesnake fangs for three hours last night!" Rachel wheezed, fighting to take a breath deep enough to regain some normal color to her face.

"And missing Quidditch practice," Quentin agreed.

They all collapsed into chairs in the corner of the crowded common room, and only laughed harder at the strange looks they were receiving from their housemates. Every time they managed to calm down, one of them would snicker again, and set all them to laughing once more.

"Well now we know that the map works," Connor said quietly, still breathing heavily. "So now we know we can trust it when we need to. No more getting caught out in the hallways after hours."

"Speaking of which," Ivy said thoughtfully. "I was thinking that it might be fun to stay up late tonight and see who _really_ prowls around the school at night."

"And the map shows the school grounds as well," Quentin said, getting into the spirit of things. "We could spy on the other house teams Quidditch practices."

"We could see who Sarah's been meeting up in the Astronomy Tower since Halloween," Rachel said with a wicked grin .

"No!" Ivy said in disbelief. "Your cousin, the _Head Girl_?"

"Ew!" Connor said distinctly, but the girls just giggled.

"Oh, like you weren't staring at Jeanette Fisher in potions yesterday," Ivy teased.

Connor's cheeks burned while Quentin and Zack looked at him curiously. "I was only staring at her because she had a smear of something on her nose that was making it glow."

"If you say so," Ivy smirked. "But she sure looks at you a lot."

Rachel and Ivy laughed at his red cheeks and horrified expression, and Zack and Quentin looked the other way to hide their own smiles.

"Maybe we'll be spotting _them_ in the Astronomy Tower some night, eh?" Aiden suddenly stepped up to the group waggling his eyebrows and holding up a bit of flesh colored string the Connor recognized immediately as an Extendable Ear.

"Aiden!" Connor gasped. How long had his cousin been listening in? He had agreed with the others that they wouldn't tell anyone else about the Map; it was just too dangerous, and one of them was bound to be caught if word spread around.

"Just teasing you, Con," Aiden winked. "Where have you all been this morning?"

"Oh, nowhere," Rachel said. "Just exploring the castle."

Aiden didn't look like he quite believed them, but shrugged and talked them all into playing a game of exploding snap until lunch. Connor was bothered by the possibility that Aiden knew about the map (his father's twin had been the one to tell them about it, after all), until Rachel put his mind at ease.

"It's okay," she told him as they headed down to the Great Hall for lunch. "I spotted that extendable ear when he sent it over. He didn't hear more than a few seconds worth of our conversation."

Connor sighed with relief, but wondered if they would be able to keep the map a secret for long at this rate. They would have to be extra careful in the future.

**A/N - I hope you all weren't disappointed by the prank - it wasn't anything on a grand scale, but these are just 12 year old kids, and they were just doing it to test the map (for the most part). Stay tuned, because things are going to get interesting in the next chapter and Connor's life is going get a bit more complicated.**


	26. Interlude Family Trees help

**[A/N] Ted M. Hammett (one of my lovely reviewers) suggested a family tree of sorts for him to better understand the who belongs to whom in this story, so I decided to post this little interlude to share a bit of my notes on this matter with you all. Please keep in mind that not all of these people are important to this story, nor are all of them mentioned – they're just part of my creative process.**

**I hope this helps! Thanks for the Suggestion, Ted!**

Harry /Ginny - Connor James, 12 years old, Black hair, Green eyes

(twin)Lucy, 9 years old, Black Hair, Brown eyes

(twin)Ian, 9years old, Red Hair, brown eyes

Adam 5

Ron /Hermione – Rachel, 11, Red hair, brown eyes

Gwen , 9, brown hair, brown eyes

Prue, 5 Brown Hair brown eyes

Percy/ Susan – Judith, 6 ½ months, Red hair, brown eyes

Brian, 9½ yrs., Blonde hair, brown eyes

Jack, 4,

Shannon, 3

Charlie/ Brianna – Matthew, 8 yrs., Red curly hair, blue eyes

Maggie, 10 yrs., Brown curly, brown eyes

Victoria, 13 yrs., red straight, brown eyes

Ella 5

Bill/ Fleur – Sarah, 17, red hair, blue eyes

Marcus, 14 yrs, blond, blue eyes

Fred /Catherine – Peter, 9, red hair, hazel eyes

Jarod, 11, red hair, hazel eyes

Aiden, 13, red hair, hazel eyes

Shawn, 15, red hair, hazel eyes

(twins) Dylan, Arthur 4

George/Zoe – Patrick, 10 ½, dark brown, blue eyes

Michael, 5

When Connor is a Second Year:

Rachel (Ron and Hermione's) will be a first year

Victoria (Charlie and Rachel's girl) will be a third year

Sarah (Bill and Fleur) will be a seventh year _Ravenclaw_

Marcus (Bill and Fleur) will be a fourth year _Ravenclaw_

Jarod (Fred/Catherine) will be a first year

Aiden (Fred/Catherine) will be a third year

Shawn (Fred/Catherine) will be fifth year


	27. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

_"Once the toothpaste is out of the tube, it's hard to get it back in!" __-H.R. Haldeman_

The next month went by quickly as the school got back into it's regular routine after the holidays. Connor's injuries faded into memory, and he happily began Quidditch practice again, despite the freezing temperatures in which they played. Quentin, who hated the cold, only scowled at Connor when he walked out of the castle each practice day, regardless of the weather, proclaiming, "It's a perfect day for Quidditch!" It wasn't until he caught a cold and Madam Pomfrey forced him to drink a generous portion of Pepper-Up Potion that Connor's cheerful proclamations came to halt.

The weather outside kept most of the students inside during a particularly stormy February, and time in the common room was spent being shushed and glared at by the fifth and seventh year students who were studying for their O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. exams at the end of the term. With boredom overtaking them often, the Marauder's Map was put to good use nicking food from the kitchens after hours, and discovering that Sarah Weasley was indeed meeting a Gryffindor seventh year boy in the Astronomy Tower after hours every few days. They had even dared to position themselves on the first floor corridor again when they knew that Snape was coming and staged their conversation again, just to annoy him, but decided it would be pushing their luck to try it again anytime soon. They set their sights on tormenting Filch in a similar manner, but somehow it just wasn't as fun.

Connor, for his part, had not had any more dreams since returning to school, and he and his friends wondered if the injury to his head had cured him of that. It became obvious that it hadn't affected his precognitive abilities; only days after returning to classes, he had warned Sarah in the hall one day that someone had slipped a snake into her school bag, and saved Rachel from tumbling down a flight of stairs where someone had spilled some sort of oil on the landing.

Vanessa Malfoy served her daily detentions with an air of superiority, and held her head high, as if she were being unjustly punished, but gave no other complaint. Connor noticed that she seemed to have gained some strange sort of popularity due to her part in the incident that had earned her those detentions, and had begun to hang around with a group of Slytherins whose reputations were less than stellar. The members of the Slytherin Quidditch team seemed to have abandoned her when she was banned from the team, and Connor wondered if she truly liked her new little 'gang' or if she was just settling for them since no one else apparently wanted to befriend her. Even among the Slytherins, it seemed that attacking another student for no apparent reason and seriously injuring them was a low blow. Whatever the reason, Vanessa and her group kept well away from Connor and his friends, doing little more than whispering or making rude gestures whenever they passed in the corridors, though they bullied many other students.

It wasn't until a couple of days after Valentine's Day that things took at turn. It was late on a Wednesday night, and Connor and Zack were playing chess in the Common Room, while Ivy looked on. Rachel and Quentin were sprawled on the floor nearby sorting through an exploding snap deck, having just finished playing, and most of the rest of the Gryffindors had gone up to bed, with just one or two people left studying in the chairs by the fire, everyone already in pyjamas and dressing gowns.

"I'm hungry," Ivy complained suddenly as the chess match came to an end with Connor the victor. "Anyone up for a stroll down to the kitchens?"

"I'm in," Connor answered. He had gotten in from Quidditch practice later than he had expected, and hadn't eaten a very big dinner.

"Not me," Quentin yawned, stretching. "I'm too tired."

"Me too," Zack said. "And I still need to write to my folks."

"I shouldn't," Rachel said regretfully. "Nancy Destin in my room has been making comments about the hours I've been keeping and how I've not been in my bed twice this past week in the middle of the night."

"She the one with the short hair and the glasses?" Connor asked, trying to picture the girl in his head.

"That's the one," Rachel agreed. "Nosiest girl I ever met, actually. I wouldn't put it past her to report me to a prefect or something."

"Sounds like she could do something from Uncles Fred and George," Connor grinned. "Any of you still have any Warthog wafers left?"

"I do," Ivy said. "I put a charm on them to keep them fresh, I've been saving them for the right moment to slip them onto the Slytherin table."

"Okay," Rachel smiled. "That should be good, but I still need to get to bed before she ruins it tonight."

They all said goodnight, and Connor retrieved the Marauder's Map from his room before meeting Ivy at the portrait hole. The remaining Gryffindors didn't even look up from their studies as the pair of them slipped out as quietly as they could, consulting the map once the portrait was closed behind them. Having made this trip more than once, Ivy and Connor felt confident in their ability to maneuver through the castle without being discovered. They wound their way through the deserted corridors, hiding behind a statue of Brendon the Brutal once as a group of heavily cloaked Ravenclaw and Slytherin first years shuffled sleepily by on their way to their midnight Astronomy lesson. Aside from that, the way was clear, and they reached the huge portrait of the bowl of fruit without incident and begged a snack from the elves to take back to their common room.

The pockets of the their dressing gowns were full of biscuits and cream puffs as they made their way quickly back up to the common room, opting to use one of the abandoned secret house-elf corridors to avoid a cluster of ghosts that seemed to me having a gathering of some sort on the first floor. Connor wiped the map clean and stuffed it inside his dressing gown after checking that the last staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower was clear, and they happily padded up the steps in their slippered feet, hoping that the Fat Lady wouldn't lecture them for being out so late. It took Ivy a moment to realize that Connor had stopped climbing, and she turned around to see him frozen in place, standing rigidly with unfocussed eyes.

"Connor?" she asked uncertainly.

"She's going to fall!" he suddenly said anxiously, his eyes wide with fear. "We have to get down there or she'll be killed!"

Ivy was stunned for a moment when Connor made his announcement, and then turned and ran the back the way they had just come, drawing his wand as he went. Drawing her own wand and praying that they wouldn't get caught, she ran after him, unwilling to let him run off on his own to face who knew what. The portraits that lined the walls of the castle were a blur as they ran past them, with Connor in the lead. Ivy tried to ask him what was happening, but could barely get the words out as she ran, breathing hard.

"She's going to fall any second!" Connor shouted over his shoulder, half-running, half-stumbling down another flight of stairs, absently remembering to jump over the third one from the bottom, which would have stolen precious seconds had he stepped on it and gotten stuck. "We have to hurry!"

Ivy cringed as they ran through the cluster of ghosts they had avoided earlier, who were now traveling up the fourth floor staircase, shivering as their icy coldness passed through her, but she did not break stride. Connor was sprinting, heedless of the fact that on the third floor he passed Professor Flitwick who called squeakily after them, and Professor Thompson on the second. Connor made it to the main entrance of the school, tripping once or twice, and practically knocking over two sixth year prefects as he headed for the huge front doors, only yelling out, "She's going to fall!" by way of apology as he ran. Ivy caught up with him at the doors, and didn't bother with questions as she helped him shove the doors open wide and followed him out into the cold night.

Connor was grateful when Ivy added her strength to the front door of the castle; there wasn't a moment left to spare. His lungs burned and his heart was pounding from his race to this point, but he knew that he couldn't stop; he had to get to the bottom of the Astronomy Tower _now_. Luckily it was pretty much right over the main entrance, and Connor ran outside, not paying any attention to the several voices that were calling after him. He turned to face the castle even as he heard several screams rip through the still night air, and saw a dark form falling down hundreds of feet toward the ground. Connor would remember later how time had seemed to slow down as he watched the girl plummet from the top of the Astronomy Tower, and how it had seemed to take an age for him to point his wand upward and shout out the only spell that came to mind.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

She continued to fall, even as his spell caught her in mid air, but he could see that she had slowed down dramatically, or at least was not picking up any more speed as she went. He saw a flash of brass speed past the girl on her descent, and heard a faint crunching sound somewhere in front him, but paid no attention to it; he dared not to take his eyes from the girl. He was concentrating so hard, mentally willing the figure to come to a halt, that he barely heard other shouts of the same charm that he had used from several different voices. Finally, _finally_, the girl came to an almost graceful stop fifty feet above them, and hovered there, flailing her arms and legs and shouting out in her fright.

"Slowly now," he heard someone calling out behind him. "Everyone keep their wands steady and bring her down gently."

The girl gave a hiccup and tried to calm herself as she was gradually lowered toward the ground, and Connor watched with a strange sort of detachment as Professor Thompson hurried forward to help the girl to her feet as the spell was lifted. Connor lowered his wand shakily and looked around him to see that Ivy and the two prefects from the entrance hall all had their wands out, and all were breathing heavily, their warm breath making mist in front of their open mouths in the chill. Professor Flitwick was hurrying toward them now, as fast as his short old legs could carry him over the sodden grass, with Professor McGonagall passing him on the lawn to come to a halt in the midst of the small crowd. She took in the scene before her, two Slytherin prefects, obviously on duty, two Gryffindor students in pyjamas and dressing gowns, and a small Ravenclaw student weeping steadily as Professor Thompson tried to calm her.

Connor looked up to the top of the Astronomy Tower and felt slightly dizzy as he looked up at the two dozen or so faces of horrified students looking down at him, then he fell to his knees and from there, unceremoniously sat in the cold wet grass and uttered a single succinct and despairing swear word as he closed his eyes and waited for everyone to get over their initial shock and put two and two together.

"Headmistress," one of the prefects said unsteadily as she spotted Professor McGonagall. "That girl, she just fell from the top of the Astronomy Tower! That boy there warned us all that she was going to fall and… but… how?"

Connor felt as if every word that came from the prefect's mouth was one step closer to his doom. How could he have been so recklessly stupid? When he opened his eyes once more, Connor spotted something on the ground, and remembered that something had fallen past the girl after she had been caught up in the levitating spell. He did not want to get up to investigate further, but winced as Ivy stepped around him and picked the item up with a gasp. It was a collapsible brass telescope, absolutely shattered and dented almost beyond recognition. Connor did not want to think about what the girl might have looked like had she not been caught in time.

"Thank you Miss Calvert," Professor McGonagall said a bit sharply to the Slytherin prefect. "Would you please have one of the ghosts go and fetch Madam Cosgrove? We shall surely need a _Calming Draught_ at the very least. Off you go!" She shooed the girl away without waiting to be answered, and turned to spare Connor the briefest of glances, before turning to Professor Thompson, who was leading the terrified first year girl forward.

Connor could see that the girl was trembling from head to toe, and thought that the only way she was standing upright was because of the support of the Professor's strong arms. She was trying in vain to stifle her tears as she let herself be guided toward the castle. Not wanting to look at any of the others that he could feel staring at him, Connor looked to Ivy, who had dropped the telescope and was now standing beside him, at a loss for what to say or do. It was obvious from her expression that she understood the enormity of the situation, and she crouched down beside him and simply put a hand on his back in comfort.

"Oh Connor," she breathed shakily. "I'm so sorry."

"Your knees!" he said suddenly, noticing that the knees of her flannel pyjamas were torn and bloody. "What happened?"

"I fell down a couple of times while we were running," she said calmly, pointing to his pyjamas, which were in a similar state. "So did you."

"I did?" Connor couldn't feel anything yet. He supposed that the adrenaline coursing through him was not allowing anything as trivial as physical discomfort trouble him yet.

Ivy merely nodded and stood, offering a hand to Connor to help lift him off of the grass. Professors Thompson and Flitwick were almost back to the front doors of the castle, the frightened girl between them, and the other prefect was nowhere in sight. Professor McGonagall stood a short distance away; apparently giving Connor a moment to collect himself, but when he made eye contact with her, she said quietly, "Back up into the castle with you."

Connor and Ivy walked as slowly as possible, afraid of the mess that surely awaited them inside. Professor McGonagall's face wore a clam expression, but Connor could tell by the straight line of her mouth and slight twitch near her eye that she was either troubled or very angry.

"I think the best thing," the Headmistress finally said as they approached the front doors. "Would be for you to go directly to my office and wait for me there. I don't know if there's anyway to contain this, but I will do my best. You know the password."

Connor nodded heavily, and Ivy looked scared, but they both followed the professor into the main entrance only to find it full of people. All of the students who had been atop the Astronomy Tower were now standing around the main entrance, whispering to each other excitedly, some of them in tears. The two prefects were standing by, uncertain of what to do, but were talking to some of the first years from their house about Connor's wild rescue attempt. Madam Cosgrove was competently administering a potion to the girl who had fallen, and to her semi-hysterical professor. Professor Thompson was still sitting beside the young girl, his face slightly pale, while professor Flitwick stood trying to regain his breath. Pearly white ghosts were hovering over the crowd, discussing the disturbance amongst themselves, and Professor Lupin was just now hurrying down the steps with a concerned look on his face.

"Remus," Professor McGonagall said with some relief as she spotted him. "Kindly escort Mr. Potter and Ms. Longbottom to my office and stay with them until I can join you. At this point, they can probably explain things better than I could."

Looking shaken, Remus Lupin tightened the belt on his dressing gown, and nodded; walking over to his two charges, put an arm around each, guiding them toward the stairs that he had just descended. He halted them briefly on the stairway to examine their abraded knees, and muttered something about cleaning and healing them, then urged them along. They all remained silent as they walked down the first floor corridor, and the professor squeezed Ivy's shoulder gently when he felt her trembling beneath his hand. They approached the gargoyle that protected the Headmistress's office, and Lupin firmly said, "Animagus."

Connor allowed himself to be gently nudged forward, and stepped onto the revolving staircase, Ivy close behind. He knew that his mind should be racing a mile a minute, trying to think up an excuse, trying to think of a way to keep his secret, but at that moment, all he felt was numb. He stepped off of the stairs when he reached the top, stopped in front of the office door until Professor Lupin stepped around him and let them all in. Ivy, who had never had occasion to visit the office of the Headmistress, looked around her in wonder, taking the seat in front of a low table that the professor motioned her to. Connor sank into the chair beside her, and was distracted when the professor spoke to him.

"What's that noise?"

"Noise?" Connor asked warily. He hadn't heard anything.

"What have you got in your dressing gown?" he persisted.

Connor's heart sank as he remembered that the Marauder's Map had been shoved inside his dressing gown as they had bee returning from the kitchens. "Just some parchment," he answered evasively, pulling the folded, and thankfully, blank paper out.

"May I see it please?"

Connor swallowed hard and Ivy looked stricken as Professor Lupin reached out and took it from the boy's fingers.

"Did your father give this to you?" the Professor asked, his voice giving away nothing.

"No sir," Connor said quietly.

"Where did you get it?"

"In the attic at home, sir. Over the holiday, in my father's old school things." Connor's voice was barely audible.

"How did you figure out how to work it?"

"Uncle George saw me with it, and he told me."

"I see." Professor Lupin looked over the entire parchment, but did nothing to activate it. "Well I must say that I expected this to show up much sooner than now."

"Sir?" Connor stared at the professor, wondering what would happen next. He could hardly believe it when Lupin folded it back up and handed the map back to Connor.

"You'll probably want to hold on to that, and be more careful," he said with a straight face. "If I see it again, I may be forced to confiscate it."

"Yes, sir," Connor said, and tucked it back into his dressing gown. He looked over at Ivy, who was staring at both of them in wide-eyed amazement, and grinned, current crisis forgotten for a moment.

"Tea, I think," the professor turned and, seemingly knowing his way around this office, set about making a pot of tea while the students sank back to reality. He levitated the pot over to the low table in front of them, along with a tin of biscuits that reminded Connor that his pockets had been full of snacks from the kitchens less than an hour ago. They must have fallen from his pockets during his race down to the grounds. As Lupin poured the tea, adding liberal amounts of sugar to both of their cups, he took a deep breath and said, "Obviously I want to know what happened tonight. Would you like to tell me now, or would it be easier for you to wait until the Headmistress arrives so that you only have to tell it once?"

"I might as well tell you now," Connor sighed.

And so he did. He explained (leaving out the part about being out of bounds after hours) that they had been at Gryffindor tower when he'd gotten a premonition that a girl was going to fall from the Astronomy Tower, and described the urgency that had accompanied the potent. Ivy chimed in with her account of how Connor had gone 'all funny' and how she had followed him when he had taken off running, worried about him. They explained how they had passed the ghosts, the professors and the prefects on their way, and that it had been their combined efforts with the levitation charm that had saved her from a horrible fate.

"All I could think about," Connor said, staring down at the table rather than making eye contact with anyone. "All I could think about was getting to the girl before it was too late to help her. I was too stupid keep my mouth closed, yelling about it as I was running, and now everyone knows that I knew it was going to happen before it did. If I had just gone with out shouting to the whole school…"

"Then she probably would have died," Ivy said firmly. "If you hadn't gotten everyone's attention, it would have just been you and me, and we never would have been able to stop her falling on our own; the most we could have done was slow her down, and that wouldn't have helped much after falling a hundred meters."

"I think Ivy's probably right, Con," Lupin said quietly. "You did what you had to do."

"And now everyone will know…won't they?"

Neither Ivy nor Lupin had the answer to that, but when Professor McGonagall came in a moment later, her expression was very grave.

**_A/N - I know - poor Connor - things are going to be a bit rough on him for a while. Thank you all for your lovely reviews - I live for them, and am firmly convinced that they make me write faster (hint, hint!)! Next Chapter should be up in a few days!_**

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	28. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

_"Illegitimis non carborundum." – Gen. Joseph Stilwell__  
__(__Lat., "Don't let the bastards grind you down.")   
  
_

"_That one there_!" the whispers started from the minute Connor entered the Great Hall for breakfast. "_He saved Cicely Green when she fell off the Astronomy Tower last night_!" "_My brother saw the whole thing – he's a prefect. _" _"They're saying he knew it was going to happen before she even fell!"_

"Just ignore them Con," Ivy said bracingly as they went directly to the Gryffindor table, not heeding anyone's calls when they were spotted. They chose seats that allowed them to sit with their backs facing the rest of the house tables, and all of the Gryffindor Weasleys chose seats around Connor and his friends, making it difficult for anyone unwelcome to join them and start asking unwanted questions. The cousins already knew, without being told by Connor, what had happened the night before, and he strongly suspected that Ivy had filled them in to save him the trouble. There were sympathetic and supportive smiles from all of them, and everyone urged him to eat his breakfast and act like nothing was different from any other day.

"History of Magic first today," Quentin told him encouragingly. "At least you'll be able to catch up on your sleep."

Connor smiled a bit for his friends' sake, but didn't really find anything funny about his life at the moment. Professor McGonagall had come back to her office the previous evening to give him the unfortunate news that word had spread like wildfire among those who were present at the 'incident', and it was already too late to contain it, as many of the students had been sent back to their houses before the Headmistress had had time to talk to any of them. The only bright spot Connor could see at the moment (besides the fact that he had saved Cicely Green's life) was that Professor Lupin and agreed to do his best to keep Connor's parents from showing up at the school again to fuss over him. There wasn't anything they could do about it at this point, unless they brought a ream of _Obliviators _with them, and Connor knew he'd just have to ride it out and see where he landed when the general furor died down.

"Is it really true he can predict the future? Like a seer?" One student asked loudly of another as they walked behind Connor, clearly hoping to get some sort of reaction or confirmation from him or his friends.

Everyone around him froze and looked at him to see how he wanted to handle the situation, since it was bound to happen more than once, but Connor simply asked Rachel to pass the platter of sausages and pretended to eat his breakfast as if he hadn't a care in the world. He did notice however, that Zack had been suspiciously quiet since they had sat down, and now that he looked in his friend's direction across the table, he noted that Zack was staring at some point behind him with a furious expression on his face. Connor followed Zack's gaze and found what was causing his anger immediately; Vanessa Malfoy was sitting at the Slytherin table just staring at Connor with a malevolent grin on her face. Connor made no indication that she worried him in any way, and turned back to his breakfast without comment.

"Connor," Zack said with anger evident in his voice, almost a plea for him to take action.

"Let it go, Zack," Connor sighed. "Things are going to go from bad to worse for a while, and the last thing we need to do is add fuel to the fire. Just act like it doesn't bother you; that's what I'm going to try to do."

The others around him nodded approvingly, and Zack reluctantly followed suit.

History of Magic was as dull as ever, though there was much more note passing than usual among his classmates. Ivy, Zack and Quentin glared threateningly at anyone who looked as though they were going to address Connor in anyway, which would have made him laugh in any other situation. When a note from one of the other second year girls got past Ivy's fingers as she tried to swipe it before it could reach Connor, he simply shoved it roughly into his school bag and didn't make eye contact with the sender. At the end of class, Connor got up almost before the bell had rung, left the room with his friends close behind, heading for double Defense Against the Dark Arts.

They made their way along the corridors and down the staircases to the first floor, saying nothing, since Connor didn't seem inclined to talk at the moment. When a large flock of students traveling in the opposite direction forced them to walk single file for a moment, Connor felt a hand shove into his stomach, and raising his hands automatically, felt a piece of folded parchment fall in to them.

Not bothering to break stride, Connor was relieved to find the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom open, and Professor Lupin standing at the blackboard dictating notes to a piece of enchanted chalk. He would finally have a few minutes peace while the rest of his classmates were enjoying the break between classes. The foursome walked in and took places at the front, and Connor unfolded the parchment and read, "_Now **everyone** knows_."

"Connor?"

Connor didn't know how long he had been staring bleakly at those words before he registered that Professor Lupin was speaking to him.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't hear you."

"I asked you how you were holding up."

"I'm fine," Connor answered, ignoring the worried and pitying looks he was receiving from his friends.

"What is it you have there?" the Professor asked, pointing to the paper in his slightly shaking hand.

"Nothing," Connor said with a sigh. "Just a note from someone in the hall."

Connor did nothing when the Professor reached down and gently pulled the note from his fingers, and only closed his eyes for a moment in resignation with he saw Lupin's eyes harden. "Did Vanessa Malfoy give this to you?"

"I don't know," he admitted glancing over at Quentin, who looked angry. "I didn't see her. That was just shoved at me in the hallway when a big group of kids went by. Don't worry; I can handle it. We knew that this would happen when people found out."

"Connor," Lupin began, clearly about to go into lecture mode. He was interrupted by a group of students entering the class room, though, and Connor was thankful that he didn't have to hear a speech in front of his friends about keeping his chin up and telling an adult when things got rough. He pulled out his textbook and began to prepare to take notes, when several students passed by his desk, and two more folded bits of parchment fell in front of him. Professor Lupin called the class to order, casually picking up the newest notes in front of Connor and incinerating them in mid air as he told them that the day's lesson would be a practical one. The students stared wide-eyed at the professor, who made no move to mask his actions as the notes disappeared in a little puff of ash as he asked them all to copy the short notes he had made on the blackboard. Connor grinned. Sometimes his uncle could be very cool.

"Disarming charms?" Connor heard Zack say with interest as he copied the notes down. "This should be fun!"

He knew from first hand experience what this charm worked like. His parents often used it on each other when they were feeling particularly silly at home. If cast correctly, the wand of the opponent would be torn from their grasp, and fly into the air, usually toward the caster. Professor Lupin asked them all to practice the incantation without wands first, and then asked for a pair of volunteers. Stephanie Miller and Jacob Barnum were chosen from the sea of suddenly raised hands, and stood facing each other in the front of the classroom, from a distance of about three meters.

"Now," Professor Lupin said. "This isn't really a formal duel, so we needn't bother with the formalities of bowing and such; there will be plenty of time for that later. When I count to three, each of you will point your wands at the other and use the disarming charm. If done correctly, the spell will cause one or both wands to fly into the air, away from its owner. Are you ready? One, two, three!"

Stephanie and Jacob both cried, "Expelliarmus!" at the same time. Stephanie's charm hit Jacob, and his wand flew from his hand, but Jacob flinched at the sight of a spell flying at him, and his own spell flew wide and caused Quentin's to be jerked from his grasp. Stephanie was well pleased that the spell had worked for her, and Jacob was looking sheepish.

"Very good, Miss Miller!" Lupin praised. "Five points to Gryffindor. As you can see, class, aim is important. The purpose of this spell is not to harm your opponent, but to keep your opponent from getting the opportunity to hurt you."

"But _can_ it hurt your opponent?" one of the boys in the class asked curiously. Connor recognized him as one of the less apt students in their year.

"Hmmm," Professor Lupin nodded. "It does take quite a bit of power behind it, and usually a good amount of emotion as well. As with any spell, it's important to retain your focus. I don't believe any of you will be able to hurt each other today. I would like you all to divide up into pairs and practice this spell while I walk around and observe and correct."

Quentin stepped up beside Connor immediately when he noticed one of the girls in the class approaching, obviously intent of cornering Connor for her own partner, no doubt to get a chance to talk to him about all of the rumors flying around. She shot a resentful look at Quentin, who only smiled blandly back at her, and she retreated back to her group of friends.

Professor Lupin used his wand to push all of their desks out of the way to make room, and the air was soon thick with flying wands and shouts of, "Expelliarmus!"

Quentin and Connor faced each other, grinning. They were looking forward to trying this on each other, and so Quentin said softly, "One, two, three!"

They both cast their spells simultaneously, and both of them lost their wands at the same time. Laughing, they retrieved them and tried again. After a fifteen minute interval, the Professor called them all to order again, and said, "Very good, all of you! I can see that some of you have figured out that it _is _possible to retain your wand if you maintain a very firm grip on it. Usually this can happen for one of two reasons; one, the strength of the spell is not very great, or two, the will of the person being disarmed is exceptionally strong. It _can_ make a difference."

The class was interested in getting back to work on the spell, anxious to see if they could hold onto their wands when hit. Professor Lupin, however, wanted to take the lesson a step further.

"I want all of you to practice this spell again, but this time I also want you to try to dodge the spell that is coming your way at the same time you are casting your own. Even though our classroom is large, our space is limited in here while we're all working on this; spread out as much as you possibly can, and try to avoid hitting anyone from other pairs."

There were a dozen pairs spread out around the room, and Connor and Quentin chose a spot right in the center, not really caring if they hit anyone else or not. The professor had already said that it wouldn't hurt anyone, so they paid little attention to others as they set about practicing. Quentin counted to three again, and fired his spell off, and Connor did the same, but at the same time stepped lightly to his left to avoid the oncoming spell. Connor suddenly had a strange feeling come over him as he sidestepped Quentin's spell, and instinctively dropped to his knees on the floor as two other disarming spells flew over his head. Quentin's wand flew from his fingertips and landed half way across the room, but he didn't seem to notice. He had frozen in place, staring at Connor, marveling at what his friend had just done. Connor rose to his feet and immediately ducked his head to the right to avoid another spell that was coming at him from behind. The room stilled as others had just seen what had just happened.

"Well Connor!" Lupin said his eyes slightly widened in surprise. "What reflexes! Though with your father being who he is, it really comes as no surprise."

Someone in the room snorted and muttered disbelievingly, "Reflexes. Right."

Professor Lupin turned and picked out the student who had spoke effortlessly, since almost everyone in the room was looking his way; many of them frowning, but a couple were smirking. Ivy looked murderous, and Zack was clenching his fists. "Mr. Smythe, is there something you'd like to share with the rest of the class?" he asked coolly.

"Well it's obvious, isn't it? He saved that Ravenclaw girl last night because he knew it was going to happen ahead of time, and now he's ducking spells shot from behind him? Come on! It's not really hard to figure out!" Geoffrey Smythe looked smug as some of the others nodded in agreement with him.

"I sincerely doubt that you have it _figured out_, Mr. Smythe," Professor Lupin said cuttingly. "In fact, having known Connor since he was born, I can say with good authority that you know very little about it at all." The Professor was looking as stern as most of them had ever seen him, and shifted uneasily where they stood. "I would caution every single person in this class to remember that rumors rarely contain the whole truth of any matter," he pinned his gaze at the boy who had spoken out. "Including the one you were referring to Geoffrey."

"Well then how can you explain what he just did?" Geoffrey asked stubbornly.

"Perhaps you might volunteer to help me with a demonstration," Lupin said lightly to the boy. "And then, when it's over, maybe you'll understand."

Geoffrey had plainly not been expecting the professor to be able to answer his question easily, and walked somewhat nervously to the front of the room. Professor Lupin conjured a blindfold and tied it around the boy's eyes and asked him if he could see at all. When he told everyone that he was effectively blind, Lupin took a few steps away and faced the blindfolded subject.

"Geoffrey," he said straightforwardly. "I am going to cast the disarming charm toward you, though it will pass close to your head instead of hitting you. I want you to pay very close attention as I do this, to see if you can discern anything with your other senses as the spell passes you by."

The class looked intrigued by this demonstration, and gathered around to watch, Connor included. He was particularly interested in the results of this little experiment, as he had not felt as though his precognition had really had anything to do with his avoidance of the spells he had just dodged. He didn't really know how he had reacted so quickly or accurately, but he felt sure that he hadn't been forewarned by his abilities and was as curious as anyone to find the answer.

"Expelliarmus!" The professor did not shout the spell, but it moved easily from his wand, and passed only inches from Geoffrey's face, causing him to flinch. Everyone was surprised at this, and began whispering amongst themselves when Professor Lupin cast the spell again. And again. Each time the spell passed near the boy's head, he flinched or ducked in accordance with where the spell was passing.

"Wow!" Connor heard a girl saying from behind him.

Geoffrey removed the blindfold when the professor asked him to, and stood red-faced before his classmates.

"What did you experience?" Lupin asked as if every single person present hadn't been witness to the whole exercise.

"Well I could hear it," Geoffrey admitted, giving it some thought. "Not loud, but a sort of quiet buzzing; it was almost like I could _feel_ the sound coming, like a tiny vibration. Somehow I just…knew."

"I see," The Professor said. "Connor! Would you please assist me in the next stage of this experiment?"

Connor reluctantly stepped forward and let himself be blindfolded.

"Some witches or wizards are more in tune with the magical fields around them than others," Lupin was saying as he tied the black silk in place. "The spells we all cast are made up of magical energy in various forms, and so it makes sense that more sensitive wizards would be more aware of a change in the energies around him, therefore making it possible to react to them more fully than a wizard who is less in tune."

Connor could feel that Lupin had walked away from him, and could hear his footsteps as he retreated a few feet and the turned to face him. "If I'm correct in my assumption, Connor will prove to be very in tune to the energies around him, as his father is; it is often a hereditary trait. Ready, Connor?"

Connor had no sooner nodded than he heard the spell cast at him.

"Expelliarmus!" Professor Lupin cast the spell just past Connor's left ear, then his right, then aimed it directly for his student's chest. Twice.

Connor sensed the spells fairly easily, avoided the first two by simply moving his head one way or the other. The second two spells were trickier, and he had to side step, then spin off on the ball of one foot to avoid the last, stumbling a bit, but not allowing the spell to make contact. He heard applause from his classmates and blushed under the blindfold. He reached to remove it, but the professor asked him to leave it on for a few more moments.

"Connor," Lupin said. "I'd like to try that again, but this time I won't be saying the incantation aloud. You'll have no warning at all as to when I'll send them at you, but I'll only cast it three times. All right?"

Connor nodded and waited, wand held tightly in his hand. The class became so silent, that he had a wild, fleeting feeling that everyone had simply vanished into thin air. A moment later, he felt the spell coming toward him as a kind of air disturbance, and he could easily understand Geoffrey's description from a few minutes ago. He moved to the left and felt the spell pass by him, almost like a fine thread of moving air, and let out the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. Almost immediately, another spell was speeding toward him, and he moved even further left until he sensed that he was very near to the wall. He had almost no time to think about that, though, as the third spell approached, and Connor felt it make contact with his right elbow. His wand jerked in his hand, making his arm drag outwards toward the professor, but he tightened his grip and managed to keep a hold on it.

"Well done, Connor!" Lupin praised him, coming forward to remove the blindfold. "Ten points to Gryffindor for you, and five for Mr. Smythe for helping with the experiment. Mr. Smythe, I assume you have your answer as to how Connor was able to avoid those spells? Excellent. Our time is almost up, so I would ask you to collect your things. For homework, a five hundred word essay of the practical application of disarming charms, due at our next class on Tuesday afternoon."

The bell rang, and most of the students left the classroom quietly talking about their lesson and speculating about the rumors they had heard about Connor. Connor himself was retrieving his schoolbag from the jumble of desks while Zack, Ivy and Quentin waited.

"Connor," Quentin said with an awe filled voice. "That was so cool!"

Zack and Ivy nodded, and Ivy said, "I wish I'd had a chance to try it blindfolded."

"You may yet get that chance, Miss Longbottom," Professor Lupin said cheerfully from his desk, where he was retrieving his case. "Next class period."

Professor Lupin waited until the students were out of the way before using his wand to put the desks in their proper places once more, and ushered the kids out the door. He winked at Connor before heading in the opposite direction, and the friends all headed in the direction of the Gryffindor Common Room to switch their books for the ones they would need for their afternoon Herbology lesson. They were approaching the Fat Lady when Geoffrey Smythe stepped away from the wall where he had been waiting.

"Potter," he said. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for being a prat in class. After all of the rumors flying around, I guess when I saw you avoid getting hit by those spells I thought I was seeing evidence that proved what everyone is saying was true. That isn't fair and I'm sorry for it."

"It's okay," Connor said, stunned at the apology. "I understand."

"So," the other boy asked, looking at his four housemates uncertainly. "Did you really save that girl last night?"

Connor sighed. "I had a lot of help, but yes."

Geoffrey nodded thoughtfully. "And did you really know it was going to happen before it actually did?"

Connor swallowed hard and said, "Yes. Barely."

"Wow." Geoffrey said quietly, more to himself than to the others. He gave the password and climbed into through the portrait hole, leaving the others behind. Connor knew that chances were high that Smythe was making a beeline for his own friends to share this bit of news, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Quentin, Zack and Ivy all looked stunned that Connor had admitted it. He looked at them and said tiredly, "Everyone's already making up their own stories about it. My version will probably be boring compared with what's probably being spread around. I might as well tell the truth since there's no going back now."

"I reckon you're right," Rachel said from behind them.

They all turned to look at her, and she said, "Some of the rumors I've heard today are absolutely ridiculous! If someone doesn't tell them the truth soon, they'll be saying that Connor's the reincarnation of Merlin next! I even had to hex that Slytherin, Martin Iverson, in the hall this morning for his smart mouth, though I couldn't politely repeat what he said." They climbed through he portrait hole and went to retrieve their books, and then left the Tower quickly before anyone had the chance to try an corner Connor.

At lunch, the Great Hall was a bit noisier than usual, and many students called out to Connor or else just stared openly at him. Connor did his best to ignore them all, and sat with his friends and talked about the Defense lesson they had just been in. Things quieted down some as the meal progressed, though Geoffrey Smythe seemed to be enjoying a larger crowd around him that usual. It wasn't until the last five minutes of lunch that anyone actually approached Connor, and when he turned to see who had tapped his shoulder, he found himself face to face with Cicely Green.

"Hi," he said quietly. She looked almost too nervous to speak, and obviously hadn't missed the fact that the other kids in the immediate area were blatantly eavesdropping. "How are you doing?"

"Oh!" she said. "I'm fine! I just came over to say, well, thank you. For saving my life."

"It was nothing," he said quietly, silently adding, '_All I had to do was ruin mine_.'

"No!" she insisted. "It was really something. I was really upset at the time, and I don't think I realized what had really happened. I'm sorry I didn't thank you before."

"Well then, you're welcome." Connor said, blushing slightly. "Just be more careful next time."

"I will," she answered fervently. She paused for a moment, and Connor raised an inquiring eyebrow to prompt her to say what was on her mind. "I just wanted to say that I think that you're really nice, and I don't believe any of the stuff that people are saying about you around school. You're not a freak at all!" She looked immediately horrified by the last words she had uttered, and clapped her hands over her mouth. "I didn't mean…" she began from behind her hands.

"So they're calling me a freak already, huh?" Connor said lightly. "Well that's no surprise, so don't worry about it. I've kind of been expecting it."

"I'm sorry, Connor," Cicely said sadly, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder. "I don't know why everyone is being so stupid. Being able to predict the future isn't…"

"I can't predict the future," Connor corrected her quickly.

"Connor!" Rachel warned, but he ignored her.

"Sometimes things just…come to me. Luckily for you, your fall came to me just in time. It's not something that I can make happen."

The students around them that had been listening suddenly turned to discuss this bit of information with their friends, completely overlooking the fact that Connor was sitting well within earshot of their conversations.

"Well I'm glad it did, or I'd be dead right now. Thank you." She plucked up her courage and leaned forward to kiss Connor quickly on the cheek, making them both blush, before she dashed away, back to the Ravenclaw table.


	29. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

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_"This above all; to thine own self be true." – William Shakespeare _

Connor left the Great Hall feeling aggravated. Everywhere he went, people's eyes tracked him, and it seemed that no one had trouble talking about him as though he weren't even there. Ivy, Quentin and Zack meant well, but he was getting tired of them crowding around him as they walked the corridors; Rachel was hexing people for talking about him, for Merlin's sake! He knew that he would have to talk to them later, and get them to back off and let him deal with things in his own way, or they would all end up in real trouble.

The last class of the day was double Herbology. Connor walked into greenhouse number three, expecting the whispers and comments that had greeted him in his other classes, but the room was strangely quiet. At his puzzled look, Zack reminded him that they were with the Ravenclaws, and that Connor had saved one of their students, and so they were less likely to pick on him than the other houses were. As Connor took a seat on a stool around one of the huge potting tables set up around the room, one of the Ravenclaw girls, Sharon Whitaker, approached him.

"I've been hearing a lot of things about you today, Potter," she said bluntly, tucking her dark hair behind her ears so that it didn't impede her vision. "And I don't know how much of it is true, and how much of it is rubbish. What I _do_ know is that you saved my cousin's life last night, and I want you to know that if you ever need anything, you can count on me to back you up."

A few of her housemates nodded emphatically, and Connor stammered his thanks, pleased that she returned to her seat without expecting him to tell her his version of events. He hadn't had any idea that Cicely Green had relatives at the school, but was glad to know that not everyone blindly believed everything that was being said about him.

Professor Wexler called them all to order and set them about repotting dozens of disgusting little plants called Morphopods. Their leaves resembled nothing so much as globs of dark green gelatin on the end of a slimy stem, and seemed to have a shifting shape that writhed and undulated unpleasantly when touched; they also smelled strongly of ginger. Their task was made more difficult by the fact that the sap these fragile little plants produced was extremely unstable, and forced them to wear their thick dragon hide gloves during the whole process. All of them were too busy trying not to damage the tiny plants with their clumsy gloves to carry on any kind of conversation. The only person who seemed to have no problem at all with her repotting was Ivy, and that came as a surprise to no one. The two hours passed relatively uneventfully, except for a tense moment when Jack Murphy scratched his nose with a gloved hand, and his nose began to slide sideways on his face. Professor Wexler was on hand to control the situation, though, with a nicely placed sticking charm and a little bottle of potion that corrected the problem.

After class, everyone headed to the Common Room except Zack, who said he needed a book from the Library. They met Rachel on the staircase to the fifth floor, and learned that she had been given detention by Filch for hexing Martin Iverson in the corridor earlier. They were approaching the sixth floor stairs when they heard someone call out, "Potter! Wait up!" They all halted and turned to see another Gryffindor boy, a fifth year, jogging toward them.

"You guys go ahead," Connor sighed. "I might as well get this over with; the more Gryffindors that have the real explanation, the less I'll have to hide in my room for the rest of the year."

They nodded reluctantly and continued up the stairs, walking slowly. The boy caught up with Connor and stopped for a minute to catch his breath before grinning and saying, "Had yourself a bit of an adventure last night, did you?"

"A bit," Connor agreed mildly, beginning to take the stairs again. The other boy, who Connor recognized as Richard Murray, fell into step beside him.

"So there's some pretty wild rumors flying around," Richard said casually. "I'll bet you're getting sick of it, huh?"

"You could say that," Connor said, wishing that the other boy would just get to the point or go away.

"I was just wondering what the truth was," Richard said finally. "Can you really predict the future?"

"No," Connor said. "Sometimes I just know things, or I get a mental image. I'm not a seer or anything."

"Of course not!" the other boy said amiably, waving the very idea away. "Seers don't really predict the future, do they? They just spout off riddles that can be interpreted any number of ways."

"I don't predict the future either," Connor frowned. He was starting to get the feeling that Richard wasn't just asking out of curiosity to know the truth. His feeling was confirmed in the very next moment.

"_Riiiight_," Richard winked. "But listen. If you ever – _just know_ – about the outcome of any of the league Quidditch matches, I could really make it worth your while to let me know about it ahead of time. There are a lot of people out there who like to make friendly wagers, you know. Harpies against the Bats is coming up this week; we could really…"

"I don't think so," Connor said, interrupting. "I told you, it doesn't work like that, and even if it did, it wouldn't be right to cheat people like that."

"Riiiight," the boys said again. "But if it _did _work like that…"

"It _doesn't_," Connor snarled, grateful that they had reached the portrait hole. "And it's never going to happen, so just drop it." He had expected something like this to happen if anyone ever found out, but he hadn't reckoned it would happen quite this soon, not by anyone in his own house. It didn't even cheer him up to think of what his mother would have had to say to Richard if she ever caught wind of what he had just asked her son to do.

Settling himself at a table in the corner of the common room, Connor angrily pulled out his Herbology text and began reading the section about Morphopods so that he could answer the questions that Professor Wexler had given them. Ivy, Rachel and Quentin settled themselves at the same table, but remained quiet, sensing that Connor didn't want to talk about it. They sat silently, except for the scratching of their quills until Zack returned from the library with a bloody lip.

"What happened to you?" Ivy exclaimed when he sat down with his books, holding a handkerchief to his face.

"Just a little disagreement with a Slytherin," Zack said, showing them his abused lip. "Believe me, he looks worse."

"Did you get in trouble?" Connor asked worriedly, knowing that this had something to do with him.

"Nah," Zack said with a shrug. "No teachers were around at the time; which is probably why he dared to start up with me in the first place. He won't be trying it again in a hurry."

"What did you do to him?" Quentin asked, not sure if the feeling of pride in his friend was strictly appropriate. None of them had any doubt that the disagreement that had split Zack's lip had everything to do with the rumors flying around about Connor.

"Just punched him a couple of times. I don't think he was expecting me to hit him, but I didn't have time to draw my wand at first," Zack said dismissively. "It's done, and when his friends find him, they'll let him out of the full body bind and take him back to his common room, and he'll know better than to open his fat mouth around me."

"Look guys," Connor said to his friends. "I appreciate that you're worried about me and all, but you can't go around hexing people and getting in fights just because you don't like what they're saying about me. It's just not worth it."

"Hey," Zack said. "I would have walked away if he'd backed off. He started it by trying to hex me."

Connor sighed. "Just promise me that you won't let anyone else provoke you into fighting, okay?"

The others nodded glumly, and then they all went back to their work, only to be interrupted a few minutes later by Connor and Rachel's cousin, Shawn.

"Hey Con," he said easily, getting straight to the point. "I hear you've been talking to a couple of people, and I just wanted to know what you want the rest of us to say or not say when they ask us."

"Just tell them the truth," Connor answered. "You don't need to go into details. Just plain, 'He doesn't predict the future, he has no control over what he sees, blah, blah, blah.'"

"Right," Shawn said affably. "Can do. I'll let the others know." He was about to go back and join a couple of other cousins, but stopped and said quietly, "Remember that you have that Skiving Snackbox my dad sent you if you need to get away for a bit." Then he winked and was gone.

Connor nodded thoughtfully; he had forgotten about that; the box was still packed away in his trunk with the wet-start fireworks he was waiting for an opportunity to use He made a mental note to dig them out, just in case.

While he was finishing his homework, three other Gryffindors approached Connor in a group, and he patiently explained that he had no control over his abilities, and the he did not predict the future on command. He knew it would not take long for word to spread, and he hoped that if he kept it simple, people would be more inclined to believe him, and less inclined to bother him. It was wishful thinking.

He wound up skipping dinner, simply because he didn't want to deal with it all, and he ended up going to bed with a headache. He wasn't comforted by the thought that tomorrow wasn't bound to be any better than today had been. Just before going up to bed (rather earlier than he normally would have), a fourth year girl stopped him on his way to the staircase, asking him if he could tell her where she had lost her charm bracelet last week. Gritting his teeth, he gave her the same explanation that he had given the others; he had no control over what he saw, and left her pouting after him in disappointment.

By the time he finally fell asleep, he was grinding his teeth and itching to hex the next person to bother him, no matter what he'd told his friends about avoiding doing the same.

_"Hey Connor!" Quentin said, pulling his friend aside in the Common Room, "Look, I sort of lost the Quidditch gloves my father sent me. Have you 'seen' anything lately that might help me find them?"_

_Connor looked back at Quentin, incredulous._

_"April Fool!" Quentin said, punching him in the arm. "Don't have a very high opinion of me, do you?"_

_Connor punched him back, and the got into a mock wrestling match._

_"Cut it out you two!" Rachel scolded. "We need to think up a plan to clear out the Common Room tonight if there's anyone still awake."_

_"I'm more worried about breaking into Lupin's office to use his fire," Ivy said nervously. "How can we be sure it'll take us to the Ministry of Magic?"_

_"I told you," Connor said. "Lupin's fire is connected to the Floo so that he can get home to the Shrieking Shack every night."_

_"I'm not sure…" Ivy said._

_"Look," Zack interrupted. "Connor has already said that he's going no matter what. I'm not letting him go alone."_

_"Besides, he's been having dreams for months that we're all there with him, so that means that we do actually get there." Quentin pointed out._

_"Yes," Ivy said, "But we still need to…."_

_BANG!_

Connor shot up in his bed and jerked the curtains aside before he was even awake. Andrew was standing by his trunk; cringing, and turned around when the hangings around Connor's bed flew open.

"Sorry!" he whispered, though there was no one else in the room. "The lid to my trunk fell. I was trying to be quiet."

"S'allright," Connor slurred sleepily. He looked over at the clock to find that he had been asleep for less than an hour. Rubbing his eyes, he grabbed his wand from the bedside cabinet and used it to unlock the drawer to retrieve his journal and a quill. He pulled his hangings closed once more and tiredly wrote down the details of his dream, knowing that he would never remember it in the morning otherwise. Once done, he shoved everything under his pillow and let sleep claim him once more.

As Connor expected, the following day brought more speculation and attempts by some of the thicker students to get predictions from him. He wished more than ever that his father had given him his invisibility cloak when he'd come to school. Potions had been the worst. Snape had deducted a total of thirty points from Gryffindor because the stupid Hufflepuffs kept hissing questions to Connor and his friends across the dungeon. True, the Hufflepuffs had lost a total of fifty, but Connor had wanted to scream by the time the class was over, and by the look on the potions master's face, Snape did too. The Hufflepuffs had glared at _him_ whenever Snape deducted points from their house, as if it was Connor's fault that they couldn't mind their own business and keep their mouths shut.

Double Charms wasn't quite so bad, because it was all Gryffindors, but he still had to deal with odd requests from his classmates. "Guess which hand the sickle is in, Potter!" Or "Is Carrie Mulligan planning on asking Trent Scully to join her study group?" By lunchtime, Connor was cursing himself for not bringing his Skiving Snackbox with him to his classes; he could do with a good hard nosebleed or a fainting spell about then. When he went back to his room to exchange his books for his afternoon classes before lunch, he slipped a few of the double ended chews his uncles had sent into his pocket, and swore he'd either take one himself, or else cram it down someone else's throat very soon.

People seemed to be getting irate with Connor, as well, when he was unable to be of use to them with his talents. Many of them seemed to believe that he was being deliberately unhelpful out of spite, and as a result, things were beginning to get ugly. Students who were turned away by Connor had begun approach his friends, to try to get Ivy, Quentin, Zack and Rachel to convince him to help them. He was sure that his other Weasley cousins were getting much of the same, though he didn't know how to prevent that. It finally culminated in a confrontation that afternoon.

"Come on, Potter." A burly seventh year Slytherin cornered him in the boys' toilet after lunch, and demanded a bit forcefully to know who was going to win the Swedish Cross Country Broom Race that was coming up. He was standing so close, that Connor couldn't even draw his wand if he'd wanted to. "Just try! If you can give me the names of the first three to cross the finish line, we could both be rich!"

"I keep telling everyone- _IT DOESN'T WORK LIKE THAT_!" Connor said, losing his patience and shouting at the other boy, uncaring that he was twice his own size. "I'm not some traveling fortune teller who can just pull stuff out of the air for other people's amusement! Why would I even want to help you anyway? I don't even know you! If I could just find lost stuff or predict the end of races or… or…"

"Connor."

Both boys turned to see Professor Lupin standing in the doorway of the boys' toilet observing the scene. "Go to class, Mr. Woodland," he said quietly, but with firm authority. "Five points from Slytherin. Connor, you come with me."

Connor picked up his school bag and jerked it angrily onto his arm, and then followed Professor Lupin down the hallway toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The professor opened the classroom to admit the queue of students who were waiting in the hallway, and asked Connor to go straight through the classroom and up the steps to his office while he gave his class instructions. Connor threw himself into the armchair across from the professor's desk and thought about taking a Nosebleed Nougat from his pocket and eating the half necessary to get him a pass to the hospital wing. He rejected the idea almost immediately, though, since Lupin would most likely guess the source of the sudden bleeding and force the other half down him without batting an eye.

Professor Lupin could be heard bringing his classroom of fourth years to order through the open office door, and asking them to copy the long list of notes on the blackboard while he took care of a matter in his office.

"Connor," Lupin said, sitting behind his desk. "Have you been getting a lot of people like Mr. Woodland approaching you?"

Connor shrugged. "I guess. Not all of them want to know that same thing, but people think I can just predict the future whenever I feel like it… or tell them weird stuff like where something they lost is and stuff like that."

"Yes, well, I don't think that Kyle Woodland will make that mistake again," the professor said. "Nor anyone within ear shot of the boy's toilet."

"Sorry," Connor said, though he really wasn't. "I just got mad."

"From what I've heard, you have good reason to be frustrated." He said calmly. "Which is why I will be having a talk with the other Gryffindors this evening about it, and the other heads of houses will be addressing their charges as well. If anyone gets out of hand after today, the consequences for that person will be… enough of a deterrent to keep them from doing it again."

Connor knew from Lupin's tone that this subject was not open for debate. Lupin wrote him an excuse for being tardy to Transfiguration, and dismissed Connor, who walked to class with a feeling of gloom.

"Hey Potter!"

Connor turned just as he was about to turn a corner and saw a familiar looking sixth year Slytherin Prefect approaching him. He pulled out his excuse note, but it seemed that the Prefect was not interested in his reasons for being out of class, but more in having him alone.

"How about, since I helped you out with Cicely Green and all, you can give me a little prediction on the outcome of…."

"I have a prediction for you," both startled boys turned to see Sarah Weasley coming around the corner, where she had obviously been standing and listening. "I predict that you will lose your prefect badge if I hear about you harassing other students again. We've already had a meeting about this type of situation, and here I find you being the _cause _of it!" Sarah's voice held barely contained fury. "Ten points from Slytherin, _and_ you're going on report; now get to class!"

The other boy shot them both a venomous look before turning and hurrying away, muttering to himself the whole time, and Connor simply shook his head with a sigh. No doubt there would be even more talk now about 'that Potter kid' having girls bossing him around and fighting his battles. And after the announcements that Professor Lupin had told him would be made in each house tonight, he had a feeling that things weren't really going to improve at all; those that wanted to exploit him would just become sneakier about it.

"Don't worry, Connor," Sarah said with a hint of sadness in her voice. "This will blow over sooner or later."

Connor nodded, appreciating the fact that she didn't try to tell him it was no big deal or that he should report anyone who bothered him. He trudged to transfiguration class and didn't meet his friends' questioning eyes as he took his seat and opened his book. All of this constant hovering and worrying by everyone who cared about him was appreciated, but was really getting on his nerves quickly, and he feared that he would end up snapping at one of them if he didn't watch his temper. They walked to History of Magic slowly, mostly because they weren't eager to reach their destination. The others seemed to have realized that they were smothering Connor a bit, and attempted to draw him out of his foul mood with talk of Quidditch, and the upcoming game against Hufflepuff at the beginning of March. Connor gratefully latched onto the subject, glad to have a conversation to participate in that didn't include his current situation in any way.

Binns's class was a boring as ever, and so Connor rested his chin on his hand, and slowly drifted into a light doze and waited for the last class of the day to be over so that he could get to Quidditch practice and leave the rest of his troubles on the ground.

"Connor!" Ivy hissed in his ear.

Connor jerked awake and found that the rest of the class was already on their way out the door, and Binns was melting through the blackboard to go wherever it was he went when he wasn't boring them all to death.

"They should have Binns checked to make sure he's not hypnotizing us all." Connor grumbled as he gathered his books with a yawn. "I swear he's planted some sort of suggestion in my head telling me to forget everything he's ever taught."

They all walked back to Gryffindor tower, joined by Rachel, who was looking cross about something, but only hissed and shook her head angrily when they questioned her.

"We're going to go get changed for Quidditch practice," Connor said as he and Quentin headed for the stairs.

"Hold up, Potter," Mariah Rexhall was striding across the Common Room with a frown on her face. She pulled him aside and kept her voice low, and said, "I just came from a meeting with Professors McGonagall and Lupin. It seems that the other house teams, led by the Slytherins, have voiced a grievance with the Headmistress over your place on the Gryffindor team, stating that your precognitive abilities are an unfair advantage to us."

"WHAT?" Connor couldn't help the volume of his voice, nor the expletive that followed.

The Gryffindor team captain winced at his reaction, though she understood his incredulous expression. The rest of the students were now looking at them curiously, and so she pulled him a little further toward the corner. Aiden, Ivy and Quentin were now approaching to find out what the commotion was about, ready to defend Connor if Mariah was attempting to exploit Connor's gift, which none of them could imagine her doing.

"I know," Mariah said angrily. "But we haven't got any way to prove that it isn't true, so for now, you've been suspended from the team."

"I don't believe it!" Ivy interrupted, not even pretending that she wasn't eavesdropping. "They can't do that!"

"They can, and they did," Mariah answered stonily. "Lupin and McGonagall explained to the other Heads of Houses and team captains that your precognition isn't something that you can control, but it didn't matter. They formally protested your place on the team, and Professor McGonagall was given no choice."

Aiden uttered another strong swear word that had Mariah glaring at him, but he ignored her. "There has to be a way around this! We've got the best team in the ruddy school again for the first time in years!"

"Professor Lupin said that he would look into it and see what he could come up with, but that we shouldn't be holding our breaths that it'll be in time for the match against Hufflepuff next week."

Quentin groaned. "We can't let them have the Cup again this year!"

"We won't," Mariah said furiously, eyes blazing. "I don't care what they say, I'm putting Connor on reserve and he's going to practice with us. If we work hard, we can get the first reserve chaser into decent shape in time for the Hufflepuff match, and then we're going to do what it takes to get him back on the first team."

All eyes turned to Connor, who looked as though he was going to protest, but then his expression hardened and he nodded and grabbed Quentin's sleeve. "Let's go get changed."

Connor spent the next two hours on the pitch in the freezing late afternoon with his replacement, a third year named Carolyn Scott, drilling her mercilessly and guiding her through the moves he'd been working on for weeks in preparation for the upcoming match. By the time they came down to the ground a final time, they were both tired and muddy, and Connor was feeling a little less forlorn. Quentin, Ivy and Connor were all heading to the Great Hall for dinner, when Vanessa Malfoy stepped into their path.

"Shame about your place on the team, Potter," she drawled with a smile. "But I felt it was my duty to my own house to point out the obvious problems with your being able to continue on playing."

"It won't be a problem for long," Connor shrugged, forcing himself to appear calm. "I've actually just come in from practice, and I'm starving, so if you could excuse us; don't you have a detention to get to?"

Vanessa scowled at them, unhappy that she had been unable to get a rise out of Connor, and not even sparing her brother or Ivy a glance as she stalked away.

"I'll find a way to play for Gryffindor again if it's the last thing I ever do," Connor growled as he walked with his friends to their house table. He could see several of the players from other house teams looking at him with varying degrees of satisfaction, and he determined to wipe the looks off of all of their faces before he was through.

At Dinner, Professor McGonagall stood and made an announcement that all students were to return to their house common rooms immediately after dinner for a brief meeting concerning school policy. Everyone looked quizzical at this, and Connor groaned and quietly told his friends what the meeting was supposed to entail. Luckily, Professor Lupin gave Connor permission to be excused from the meeting if he chose, and Connor elected to spend the evening in the Library, doing homework. He only left the quiet of the Library when Madam Pince made him leave so that she could close it up for the night. He had a feeling that tomorrow was going to be even worse than today had been.

**__**


	30. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

****

_"The best way to escape from a problem is to solve it."__ –Alan Saporta_

Connor couldn't sleep. He had too many things circling around in his brain. He had spent the evening writing letters to his parents, Lucy, Ian and Adam. His sister and brothers liked him to write to each of them separately, and so it always took twice as long to write home than if he were to just write to them all at once. He had written to his parents that he was holding up fine, and that Lupin, his friends, and the Weasley cousins were all helping to keep the scavengers at bay. He told them about the Quidditch team and asked them for advice on how to go about convincing the other teams to let him play. It was late when he finished his letters and he folded them up together and promised himself he would wake early and visit the Owlery to send them off. Now that he lay in his bed staring at the hangings, though, he thought that a little walk might do him some good.

The other boys were all sleeping soundly, and so he quietly slipped into his dressing gown, gathered up his letters, map and wand, and slipped out the room. The common room was deserted, and the large grandfather clock between the girls and boys staircases told him that it was very late indeed as he slipped out of the portrait hole, lit his wand, and consulted the map before making his way to the Owlery in the west tower. He met no one, not even a ghost, on his walk, and climbed the steps to the cold and breezy Owlery with its many windows and rafters. Owls of every description were flying in and out of the windows, some carrying a meal in sharp beaks and others hooting contentedly to their neighbors. It was a very active space at the moment, the owls being nocturnal birds, and Connor looked up at them all, searching for a school bird to carry his post.

"Um… Is there a Hogwarts owl up there that can deliver a letter?" he called hesitantly to the rafters above. It was much easier to find an appropriate owl when they were all sleeping during the day.

Luckily a handsome tawny owl fluttered down, and landed on a perch beside tge door that Connor had just come through, and held out its leg patiently, while he tied the thick packet of folded parchment to it. He carried the bird to the window and gave it its instructions, and then watched it fly out into the night. The moon was bright, and it looked as though it would be full tomorrow night. At least it would be at the weekend, which meant that they would not have to have a substitute teacher for their next Defense Against the Dark Arts class on Tuesday.

With a shiver, Connor turned and made his way out of the Owlery, checking the map for anyone that might cross his path on the trip back to Gryffindor Tower. No one. He walked quickly, hoping that it would help warm him up after being in the cold night air.

"Having trouble sleeping Mr. Potter?"

Connor thought that his heart would explode out of his chest at the sound of a voice coming from behind him. Frigid water seemed to drop in an icy cascade to his stomach as he spun around to see who had caught him.

"Professor Dumbledore?" he asked in surprise.

The old wizard was wearing a traveling cloak and was supported by a long walking staff, but he looked much the same as he had the last time Connor had seen him three or four years ago. His hair and beard were still very long and almost blindingly white, and there was still a twinkle in his eyes that spoke volumes about the man before he ever spoke. Though he knew that Professor Dumbledore was somewhere in the region of a hundred and seventy years old, his voice was strong and his movements sure. He remembered hearing his mother ask his father once if his prolonged life had anything to do with his work with Nicholas Flamel in his youth, but his father hadn't known the answer to that.

"I haven't been a professor for quite a number of years," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Yet people will insist on giving me the title."

"It's what my father calls you, sir," Connor said respectfully, wondering if he was in trouble or not. The old wizard did not seem to be the least bit surprised to have found a student wandering the halls at close to two in the morning. "I suppose that it just seems right to call you the same."

Dumbledore smiled and said kindly, "I've had a letter recently from your father."

Connor groaned inwardly. "He thinks very highly of you, sir."

"And of you," Dumbledore said, gesturing for Connor to continue walking and falling into step beside him. "He told me of your recent dilemma and of the dreams you have been having since the start of the first term."

His walking staff made a faint echoing along the hall as it softly hit the stone floor, and Connor found it to be a comforting noise. "I think he worries too much," Connor said quietly.

Dumbledore chuckled and said, "All parents do. Aside from your recent troubles, Connor, how are you enjoying Hogwarts?"

Connor was surprised that the former headmaster didn't just get straight to the point and tell him that his parents had called him in to interrogate their son to make sure he wasn't turning into an even bigger oddity than he already was. Still, there was something about the old man that encouraged confidence, and Connor found himself answering questions about his classes and schoolwork. He told him about his boredom with History of Magic, and laughed when Dumbledore confessed that he had suggested to Binns several times that he might like to retire from the teaching position, but that Binns had firmly declined. Connor shared the fact that he seemed to have a pronounced aptitude for potions, though it didn't seem to endear him to the potions master very much.

"The way Severus Snape has treated Gryffindors, Potters in particular, has been going on for so long, I think that it's a kind of ingrained tradition by now," Dumbledore confided with a chuckle. "But in his letters, he has mentioned that you seem to be… what were his words? Ah yes, 'less of a dunderhead' than your father. I believe that was it."

Connor wasn't sure what to think or feel about that. They walked on in silence for a bit, with Dumbledore occasionally pointing out something of interest in the portraits that were illuminated in the light of Connor's wand as they passed. Several of the subjects in the portraits greeted the former headmaster respectfully and made kind comments as they walked by.

"Sir," Connor asked, coming to a halt as they neared the portrait hole that led to the Gryffindor Common Room. "Why do you think my parents and everyone is so worried about my dreams?"

"Dreams are mysterious things, Connor," Dumbledore replied. His gaze seemed to penetrate into Connor's very thoughts. "And yours are a bit more mysterious than most. I believe that you have worked out by now that the dreams you have been experiencing are remarkably similar to actual events that took place some twenty years ago?"

"Yes sir," Connor answered. "My father told me that I was dreaming about a battle that took place at the Ministry of Magic the night that Sirius Black was killed. He didn't say much more about it, except that he had led his friends into danger and they had to be rescued."

"As terrible as that night was," Dumbledore nodded, coming to halt with Connor before the portrait of a snoozing Fat Lady. "I think that it is understandable that your parents feel worried about what you may be seeing while you are asleep. They love you and want to protect you from seeing the horrible things that they went through and witnessed on that night."

"But so far I haven't seen anything terrible in my dreams," Connor said. "And why would I be dreaming about a woman that my father never even saw while he was there? And what's with all the clocks? Is there really a place in the Ministry full of clocks and hourglasses and things?"

"I'm afraid I can't answered those questions, Connor," Dumbledore said. "But after speaking with your parents, and Madam MacTaggart and now with you, I can safely say that I don't believe that what you are dreaming of is the past as they fear; at least, not entirely."

"Then what is it that I'm seeing?" Connor asked quizzically. "The future?"

"A possible future, perhaps." Dumbledore appeared to be deep in thought, and so Connor waited for his to expound on his last comment. It wasn't until Connor cleared his throat a full minute later that the ole wizard came back to himself. "Though I can't imagine what could possibly lead up to the things you are seeing. I do want to warn you, though, Connor. Just because you dream something that you believe to be the future, doesn't necessarily mean that you are seeing the path you're meant to take."

"Sir?"

"What I mean to say," Dumbledore said kindly, leaning a bit heavily on his staff and looking him in the eye. "Your dreams may be a warning to you about possible danger in your path; giving you a chance to avoid peril. Indeed, it seems that many of your day-to-day premonitions seem to deal with imminent danger in one form or another. On the other hand, you may be seeing valuable and important things that require further consideration."

"So how do I know whether I'm seeing something that should happen or something that shouldn't?" Connor asked.

"That, I think," Dumbledore said simply, "is something you must discover for yourself. You must ultimately make your own choices, and listen to what your heart has to say about it. Getting advice from those you love and trust would not be amiss, either."

"I understand, sir," Connor said quietly. "Thank you."

"How extraordinarily like your father you are, my boy," Dumbledore smiled, his voice full of pride. "Now I think that it's best you get off to bed."

They bid each other goodnight, and Dumbledore waved a hand in front of the sleeping Fat Lady, and without uttering a word, opened the portrait hole for Connor to climb through. When Connor climbed back into bed a few minutes later, he thought he would never be able to get back to sleep now. He wished he had thought to ask the previous headmaster for advice on his problem with the Quidditch team, and cursed himself as he activated the map and searched it for Albus Dumbledore, only to find him gone. He must have been on his way out of the castle when he's come across Connor. More ideas and thoughts were swirling in his head than ever before, and he didn't see how he'd be able to rest for thinking about them all, but he was wrong. As soon as he pulled the warm covers over his body and drew the hangings on his bed, his eyelids suddenly felt weighted and sleep washed over him like a wave.

Connor woke feeling refreshed, and the late night meeting with Dumbledore seemed almost like a dream as he showered and dressed for the day. It was a Saturday, and was one of the last of the Gryffindors awake, apparently. By the time he got down to the Common Room, he found that his friends had already had breakfast and were trying to decide what they would do with the rest of their day. The other students in the room seemed to look away from Connor as he looked around, and raising his eyebrows, he looked to Rachel.

"It was the meeting last night," she said in answer to his silent question. "Lupin made it clear to everyone that anyone in the school who got caught approaching you in regard to your precognitive ability would lose their house fifty points and earn a month of detentions."

"Great," Connor sighed, flinging himself down into an armchair. "Now not only are people going to be afraid to talk to me at all, those that want to talk to me because of the precognition are going to make sure that there are no possible witnesses while they try to pound the information they want out of me."

No one really had any comforting words to offer, and so remained silent.

"So where is everyone?" Connor asked, noticing that the Common Room was pretty deserted for a Saturday.

"Hogsmeade weekend," Rachel said. "And it's a relatively nice day out, so almost everyone who has permission is going."

"What are we going to do?" Zack asked.

"I need to spend some more time in the library," Connor said.

"It's Saturday!" Ivy said. "Plus you were there all night last night."

"I know," Connor said. "I just want to go through my dream journal and make some notes. I ran into Professor Dumbledore last night on my way back from the Owlery, and he gave me some stuff you think about."

"Professor Dumbledore?" Zack said in confusion. "_The_ Professor Dumbledore? The wizard who was Headmaster before Professor McGonagall?"

Connor nodded.

"When did you go to the Owlery last night?" Quentin asked.

"I couldn't sleep, so I went up to the Owlery to mail some letters to my family," Connor said. "On the way back, I ran into Professor Dumbledore and had a talk with him about my dreams and stuff. I guess my dad wrote him a letter about it."

"He came all the way to Hogwarts just to talk to you because your father asked?" Zack asked in wonder, thinking about everything he had heard about possibly the greatest (and oldest) wizards of the age.

"I doubt it," Connor said. "He probably has other business around here and so he came here too. He looked like he was just about to leave, in fact, and just happened to find me in the hallway."

"Well what did he have to say?" Rachel asked. She sincerely doubted that Professor Dumbledore 'just happened' to run into anyone, but kept her own council.

Connor described their conversation and then said, "So now that I know that Dumbledore thinks I'm seeing the possible future, I want to have a look at everything I've written down about my dreams and see if it all adds up to anything. Maybe he's right and my dreams are trying to warn me about something."

"Do you want some help?" Rachel asked. She was curious to see what Connor had written, but hadn't wanted to pry; journals were very personal items, after all, and one didn't just go and ask to read another person's.

"I don't really think that there's anything to help with at this point," Connor said. "You guys go and have some fun, and I'll see you later."

He went up to his room and retrieved his journal and school bag before heading for the library. The library was relatively empty since the upper classes were all in Hogsmeade, and the weather was nice enough to permit outdoor activities. The only other students there looked away from him when they saw who he was, and Connor was pretty sure that he wouldn't be bothered as he worked. He pulled out his favorite quill and some ink and parchment, and then opened his dream journal. He had begun to try and put his dreams in 'order' before, trying to arrange them into a time line so that they would make more sense, but hadn't really analyzed them. Nor had he added his newest dream to the mix. He sat down, and for the next hour made notes as he looked over his journal entries.

"Let's see what we've got," he said to himself.

His most recent dream was the one he had had the night after Cicely Green had fallen from the Astronomy Tower. He had been half asleep when he had written down the details of that particular dream, as evidenced by the sloppy scrawl and droplets of ink over the surface of the page. If he was going to go by the assumption that he was seeing future events in his sleep, then he had learned two things from this most recent vision. The first was that whatever was supposedly going to happen was going to happen on April first, and the second was that they were apparently going to plan to use the fire in Professor Lupin's office to travel to the ministry.

This was already sounding complicated, not to mention dangerous, and this was only the first in the sequence he had arranged his notes into. Connor wrote down the most important points of the dream onto a separate piece of parchment, and then moved on to the next most logical entry to follow. The second dream turned out to be the dream that he had had at Christmastime when his father had caught him sleepwalking, and provided a few more crucial details. From what he had written in the journal, he and his friends were planning to leave around 11:30 at night, and needed to be at their final destination by 2:58 in the morning. He also observed that they were apparently going to use the Marauder's Map to monitor Lupin's office so that they would know when his fire would be free. The third and most critical point he learned from this dream was that they were apparently going to encounter Andrew as they attempted to sneak out of the common room. Unfortunately, the dream had ended before he had gotten a chance to find out how they would solve _that_ problem.

It wasn't until that moment, that Connor realized that he was thinking about all of these future events as though he had already made up his mind about undertaking this… whatever it was. What if these dreams really were a device in his own mind to keep him out of trouble?

'_Isn't that what Professor Dumbledore was warning me about?_' Connor asked himself. '_Leading my friends into unknown dangers and unnecessary adventures? Am I really considering breaking into a teacher's office and taking the Floo network to the Ministry of Magic in the middle of the night? Putting it that way, it does sound daft. Still… _'

Connor shook himself and decided that he would finish his analysis to see if his dreams, once put in chronological order, gave him a clearer idea of why his future self was so set upon breaking into the Ministry of Magic after hours and sneaking into the Department of Mysteries. He wasn't committing to anything by just looking at all of his information, was he?

The next dream was actually the first dream he remembered ever having about all of this. He had actually had this dream many times; more than all of the others put together, and he remembered it vividly, even without his notes. He and his friends were in the dark round room with the spinning walls and many doors. This particular dream seemed to be the most confusing of all of the ones he had experienced, and didn't seem to have a lot of information to offer. He moved on to the next dream in line, which he had also had repeatedly. He and his friends were in the round room again, and they were trying to decide which door to try. Connor noted the fact there were an even dozen doors leading from the round room, and searched through his notes on this dream for anything else that was useful, but found nothing. He moved on.

The next dream in the sequence also took place in the round room, but where the other dreams had ended before any of the doors could be opened, this one gave him a glimpse of what was hidden behind one of them. Connor had seen Zack open the door to a kind of amphitheater that was sunken down into the ground with a small stage and an arch with a curtain, and he shivered as he sat in the school library remembering the atmosphere of the dream. That room had given off a distinctly creepy air, and had made him extremely uneasy. After telling Zack that this was definitely not the room they were looking for, he had gotten an overwhelming feeling that they were running out of time before he had woken abruptly.

The final dream in the sequence was the most puzzling of all. Connor's previous notes told him that they needed to be at their final destination by 2:58, and yet the last dream in the sequence was the room full of clocks that all read 2:54. Rachel told them all that the woman would appear in under two minutes, but that would be two minutes _before_ Connor's other notes said they needed to be there. This wasn't good. Had something happened between the times that he had had these two dreams to change the future time she would appear, or had he simply made a mistake? Connor's head was beginning to ache from thinking about it all. He had only had this particular dream a couple of times, and now he was second guessing whether he had been paying close enough attention to the details of it all. He racked his brain to see what he actually remembered about it without consulting his journal.

They had been inside a large room, and the walls and every available surface had been covered in various time-keeping devices, but most were clocks and hourglasses. He closed his eyes and recalled the eerie ticking of all of the clocks as they counted off the seconds passing. He remembered Rachel telling him that they had made it with less than two minutes to spare, and also Quentin telling him urgently that someone was coming. He searched his memory and brought the picture of the dream up behind his eyes. When Quint had warned him, he had turned around to see the door to the round room closing by itself, and then hearing the rumbling of the room as it spun from within. It had been at that point that Ivy had called out to him and he had turned to see the woman appearing out of thin air, holding something in her hand. He had woken up before he could get a better look.

Connor opened his eyes to see that a second year Hufflepuff girl at another table was looking at him with wide eyes, but she quickly averted her gaze when he looked over at her. With a sigh, Connor wondered how long it would take people to quit treating him as either a fortuneteller to be exploited, or a freak to be avoided at all costs. He sighed as he tried to focus again on his notes.

'_Assuming that the woman I saw was Samantha Tillman_,' he thought. '_What was she doing there? She was holding something I couldn't see in her hand, but what had it been, and was it even important?'_

A sudden thought occurred to Connor at that moment, and he sat stunned for a moment before silently berating himself for not realizing it before. The woman in his dream had definitely _not_ been a ghost. She had seemed solid and had been wearing blue robes and had brown hair; ghosts had no color at all, but were a transparent sort of pearly-white. His uncle Percy had told him at Christmastime that her _ghost_ had been spotted in the Ministry, and that Andrew's father had gone there and attempted to get her to appear.

'_If I'm seeing the future_,' Connor reasoned. '_Then Samantha Tillman is alive, or at least not ghost. Why would she have been in hiding all this time? Why would she be returning to the Department of Mysteries, and how is she managing to get past the anti-apparition wards that protect all but very specific parts of the Ministry building?'_

"Connor!"

Connor looked up to see his friends standing around his table, pink-cheeked and all wearing cloaks.

"It's lunchtime," Zack said, wincing as Madam Pince glared at them threateningly. "You coming?"

Connor realized that he had missed breakfast and that he actually was very hungry. He nodded and packed everything into his bag, following his friends out to the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was only about a third full, since the older students were mostly still in Hogsmeade, and Connor was happy to sit down to a meal without having to endure any comments about him. It wasn't until he was almost finished eating that a sixth year boy who had already returned from the village ruined his mood.

"Hey Potter," the other boy said. "Could you pass the marmalade, or would that be _exploiting _your talents?"

Connor simply ignored him, but inside he was considering making a 'prediction' for the boy that would have him looking over his shoulder for the rest of the day. He pictured the look on his face if he told the other boy that someone was planning on turning him into flobber worm sometime during the day.

"What are you grinning at?" Rachel asked him, a knowing smirk on her face.

"Nothing," Connor answered with a smile as he spooned up the last of his stew. "Nothing at all."

"So did you learn anything in the library?" Quentin asked.

"A bit," Connor said, thinking about Samantha Tillman. He looked up suddenly and asked them all in general, "How would a person get into a place that has anti-apparition wards?"

"Floo?" Ivy suggested, wondering what this had to do with anything.

"Besides that," Connor said.

"Well one could usually just walk in, of course," Rachel said seriously. "Or use a port key."

"A port key!" Connor said excitedly. "That would make sense!"

"Make sense of what?" Rachel asked.

"We can't talk about it here," Connor said. "Let's go back to the common room."

All of them picked up their discarded cloaks, and while Connor wasn't looking, Zack made a rude hand gesture to the boy who had taunted him earlier. Connor grabbed his bag, and they headed up to Gryffindor Tower, finding that there were some good seats by the fire because everyone was still at lunch and there were no upper classmen to hog them all.

"So what's all this about a port key?" Rachel asked as soon as they were all settled.

"Well you know that I went to the library to work out what all of my dreams were about and put it all in order and stuff, right?" Connor said. When they all nodded, he said, "Well I was thinking of the one dream where I saw that lady in the room with the clocks, and how Professor Lupin thought that it was Andrew's grandmother that I was seeing. I don't know why I didn't realize it before, but the lady I was seeing wasn't a ghost, she was solid; and if I'm dreaming about the future, then that means she must be alive, right?"

"I see what you're saying," Ivy said. "But then why would she be showing up at the Department of Mysteries _now_?"

"I don't know," Connor admitted. "But in my dream she was holding something in her hand that I couldn't see, and the fact that she just appeared out of thin air tells me that it must have been a port key!"

"But…why?" Quentin asked as he tried to puzzle it out, his brow furrowed. "What could she possibly be doing there in the middle of the night?"

"Well if other people have seen her there on more than one occasion," Zack reasoned. "And she was mistaken as a ghost, then she must be making visits back there from time to time for some reason."

"Do you think that she's stealing information? Like a spy?" Ivy asked, careful to keep her voice low, even though there didn't appear to be anyone but them around. "I mean, who knows what goes on in the Department of Mysteries?"

"Samantha Tillman does," Connor answered. "She used to work there, so she would probably know exactly what she was doing. Who would she being stealing information for, though? Voldemort is long gone, and the Death Eaters were all caught or they ran away when Voldemort was killed."

"Just because Voldemort and his followers aren't around anymore, doesn't mean there are no dark wizards or witches around." Rachel pointed out. "Didn't you say that your dad was recently offered another job in the Auror division? Why would they want him back there if there weren't some sort of threat out there?

"Yeah," Connor said, "But if he thought it was that important, my Dad would have taken the job. I don't think there's a huge threat right now. Maybe the reason I'm having these dreams is to find out what she's up to," Connor said, more to himself than to the others. "Maybe she needs to be stopped."

"How do we do that?" Zack asked.

"By going there and catching her," Connor said

"How are we going to do that?" Ivy asked incredulously.

"Actually," Connor said, thinking about his notes and all of the information he had gleaned from them. "We already have a plan worked out. Mostly."

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{A/N} Thanks to everyone who pointed out my error with Snape and Lupin in Chapter 26 - it has been remedied. Also thanks to everyone who continues to review and let me know that this is being read by at least a few people. This chapter took me longer to write, and my monitor blew up and had to be replaced, so this isn't really beta read at all, so please forgive any errors (and please continue to point out the big ones!) Thanks again - I'm busily working on Chapter 29, so hopefully it won't be too long. As always, let me kn ow what you think!


	31. Chapter 29

**A/N - Thanks you all of you wonderful, beautiful reviewers who have been reading my story! This took a bit longer to post, because I sent it out to someone who offered to beta read it for me, but never e-mailed me back after I sent it out. I didn't want to make you all wait too much longer, so here is the un-proof-read version. If I ever hear back from the beta reader, I may replace this chapter with corrections, but the story itself wouldn't change in any way. Anyway, I've busily working on Chapter 30, but it may take a few days, as my real life insists on intruding now that my kids are back in school. I hope you'll stay with me and continue to let me know what you think!**

**Chapter 29**

_"The best way to predict the future is to invent it." – Alan Kay  
_

Connor spent the latter half of day on the Quidditch pitch training hard with the rest of the team. He hated having to wear the robes that marked him as a reserve, but he was pleased to see that Carolyn Scott had been taking her role in the next match very seriously and was working hard to develop a good rhythm with the other chasers. She still got distracted too easily by the bludgers when they got near, but she had excellent aim for scoring goals. Connor made a note to set up a little extra time for Carolyn to work with the beaters, to build her confidence. By the end of practice, both of them were tired, but happy with the continued progress they were making.

That night before bed, Connor was still thinking about everything he had told his friends and how enthusiastic they had seemed to be planning a grand adventure. As he pulled on his pyjamas, he was having a nagging feeling of guilt over automatically including them in the plans to go to the Ministry. Hadn't Professor Dumbledore just warned him about leading his friends into danger unnecessarily? The more he thought about his dream, the more it seemed to him that taking his friends along with him to the Ministry of Magic in the middle of the night was a huge risk that could only end in disaster. What if any or all of them got caught? He hadn't dreamed anything at all that told him that his friends really needed to be there with him; it might very well be safer and less trouble if he were to go alone. Certainly there would be less of a chance of discovery if just one twelve-year-old wizard snuck in, compared to five.

He grabbed his toiletry bag and headed for the bathroom to brush he teeth before going to bed. The room was deserted except for Andrew and a couple of first years that Connor only vaguely recognized. When the first year boys saw him, they hurriedly packed up their own toothbrushes and hurried out of the room, obviously afraid of incurring his wrath or a punishment for saying the wrong thing around him. He sighed heavily.

"You're probably going to get a lot of that for a while," Andrew said as he patted his face dry with a towel.

"I know," Connor nodded sullenly, unzipping his back and taking out his toothbrush. "I'll be the resident freak until somebody else comes up with something to top it."

"That's not really likely to happen, is it?" Andrew said less than encouragingly.

"Probably not," Connor agreed.

"I guess now I know how you managed to turn my homework prank around on me," Andrew reflected without any bitterness in his voice.

Connor smiled sheepishly at the other boy, and Andrew snorted.

"So," Connor said after he finished brushing his teeth. "How is your father? Has he been released from St. Mungo's yet?"

Andrew stiffened for a moment before he realized that Connor was being sincere. "He's doing better. He got out of St. Mungo's a couple of weeks ago, and is back at home, resting."

"That's good," Connor said. "You seemed really worried about him at Christmas."

"I was," Andrew admitted. "But hopefully he's truly on the mend this time."

Connor nodded and the other boy zipped up his toiletry bag and departed, leaving Connor to wonder if it really was Andrew's grandmother he was going to try to catch in the Department of Mysteries. Who else could it be? What would having his mother captured alive after twenty years do to Andrew's father? Would it send him to the brink of madness again?

'_This is all way more complicated than I counted on_,' Connor thought to himself as he left the bathroom.

He went back to his room to find that Quentin and Zack were in bed, and both had their noses buried in enormous books.

"What are you two doing?" he asked them as he climbed into his own bed.

"I'm reading up on the rules of Quidditch," Quentin answered. "And Zack is looking for any laws pertaining to clairvoyants or precognitive abilities."

"Because...?" Connor prompted.

"To find a way to get you back on the team, of course!" Quentin answered. "The game against Hufflepuff is less than a week away!"

"I appreciate it guys," Connor said, his mood sinking. "But you heard Mariah. Professor Lupin doesn't think that we're gong to come up with anything in time for this game."

"That doesn't mean we have to quit trying!" Zack said.

"I know," Connor said. "But maybe it's better if I _don't _play."

"What?" Quentin sounded scandalized.

"Why?" Zack asked at precisely the same moment.

"Well our last game was really close," Connor said. He had given this quite a bit of thought while he had been training with Carolyn. "And now you know the Slytherins are going to try to get it thrown out because I was the one who made the last goal that saved it for us. They'll say that I 'knew' that the snitch was coming out, and that it gave us an unfair advantage; it won't matter that it's rubbish. But if I don't play in this game, against the team that won the cup last year, and we still beat them, no one can say anything about our team not being the best, with or without me."

"I don't like it," Quentin said stubbornly.

"But you know it makes sense," Connor said. "Better to remove all doubt then have everyone saying we cheated. When I get back on the team, I'm of half a mind to challenge the Slytherins to another game, just so we can beat them again."

That made Quentin smile a bit, and Zack and he reluctantly put their books away for the night. Andrew had sat on his bed listening to the whole exchange, but saying nothing as he, too, flipped through the pages of a large book, though Connor doubted he was trying to help find a way to restore Connor's place on the team.

"Good night everyone," Connor yawned, and the other three boys bid him the same, and the lights were turned out a moment later. It only took a few moments before Connor was fast asleep.

The next morning was a quiet one. The students who had spent the previous day at Hogsmeade slept in late, and so the Great Hall wasn't very crowded. There were a few post owls that fluttered in, and Connor was pleased to see one of his father's owls land and drop a small bundle of parchment for him, and noted that Zack's owl, Godric had delivered a package for his friend. Both owls departed once they had received a treat from the boys, and Connor opened his packet of parchment to find letters from his siblings and one from each of his parents. He refolded them and tucked them into his pocket for later. Looking over at Zack, he noted that Quentin and Ivy were particularly interested in what Godric had just delivered.

"What have you got there, Zack?" Connor asked curiously, seeing his friend opening a strange box that looked like it was made of a rubbery sort of glass. He vaguely recalled seeing something like it before, and that it was called something like _plack-tick_. Rachel was tapping at the box with her finger as Zack pried it open. It seemed to be hinged along one side, though no hinges could be seen. "What's that thing made out of?"

"It's a plastic pencil box," Zack said with a chuckle.

"Weird," Quentin said, eyeing the blue 'plastic' from his seat next to Zack. "What does it do?"

"Nothing, really. It's just a box," Zack shrugged, amused. "Right now it's full of pens. I asked my Mum to send some. I was telling Connor about them over Christmas."

"Oh yeah!" Connor remembered now. Zack had told him about how enthralled his father had been over his quills and ink, and that Mr. Ellis used a pen to do all of his writing.

"What's a pen do?" Ivy asked.

"It writes," Rachel answered. "I saw Grandma Granger use one once. It was really quite fascinating."

"How does it work?" Quentin wanted to know.

"Well this kind," Zack said, withdrawing an ordinary ballpoint pen. "This kind has a tube inside that's full of ink. There's a little ball at the tip that rolls across the surface of the paper, and collects ink from inside as it rolls, leaving a trail. Here, look."

He pulled a scrap piece of parchment out of his pocket and demonstrated how to use the pen, laughing when his friends all sat, transfixed at the sight.

"Brilliant!" Connor said. "I wonder why _we _don't use these?"

"It is very interesting," Ivy conceded. "But just look at how pale and skinny the line is! It just doesn't have the _flow_ that a quill does."

"Could I try one?" Connor asked eagerly.

"Sure!" Zack laughed. "My mum sent a whole package of them. Says there's a dozen in here. Enough for you all to have one if you want."

All of them took one of the pens excitedly and scribbled their names on the same scrap of parchment, their faces aglow with enthusiasm.

"What else have you got there?" Connor asked, noting that the 'plastic' box wasn't empty. It really was a strange material, not as clear as glass, but still see-though.

"Some markers," Zack grinned. "They're basically the same concept as the other pens, only the tip is made of felt soaked in different colors of ink."

He took a multicolored handful from the box, and pulled the cap off of a blue one to show them how it worked. Again intrigued by this new device, the others each picked up one of the markers and experimented with them on the now ink-covered parchment.

"You said your parents sent these?" Quentin asked. "I thought they were Muggles."

"They are," Zack frowned, confused as to why this would make a difference.

"Then how'd they get something called a 'Magic Marker'?" he asked seriously, reading the words on the packaging. "And how come none of us have ever heard of them? What do they do that's magic?"

Zack was stumped for a moment as to how to explain the Muggle perception of Magic and why the markers were called magic, when in fact, they were an entirely Muggle device. He finally explained it all to his friends who simply shook their heads in amusement and fished around in their pockets for more parchment to experiment on. Zack made a mental note to thank his mother for the large assortment of pens and markers she had sent; he had a feeling that they would be put to a lot of use in the next couple of days as his friends enjoyed their novelty. In fact, they delayed at the table in the Great Hall for so long, attracting a bit of a crowd as the other Gryffindors came over to see what all the fuss was about, that Professor Lupin came over to investigate.

He was highly amused by the kid's reactions to the Muggle artifacts, and explained to Connor that he had seen such things many times before, having grown up with a Muggle parent, and living his early years with one foot in the Magical and one in the Muggle world. The professor looked tired, but in good spirits, and took the time to have a few quiet words with Connor while the rest of the kids were preoccupied.

"I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to talk to you about he Quidditch suspension before now," he apologized to the younger boy. "There was so many things to do before the full moon this time, and not enough hours to do them all. Please believe me when I say that I fought this decision, and will continue to fight it. We will find a solution."

"I know," Connor said gently. "Quentin and Zack were reading books last night looking for a solution, and I'm sure the others are as well. I wrote my folks, too. Wish I had remembered to ask Professor Dumbledore before he left..."

"Professor Dumbledore was here?" Professor Lupin asked, surprise evident in his face. "When?"

"It was Wednesday night, er, after hours. Thursday morning, really," Connor answered sheepishly. "I was coming back from the Owlery and met him in the hallway."

"What did he have to say?" the professor asked curiously, ignoring the fact that Connor had just admitted to breaking curfew.

Connor thought it a bit odd that his uncle hadn't known that the previous headmaster had been at the school, though he _had_ just finished telling him that he had been extremely busy last week. "Not too much. Mostly we just talked. He walked me back to Gryffindor Tower and told me a bit about the portraits along the way. He said that he'd gotten a letter from my dad and we talked a bit about my dreams, but not much else. He let me into the portrait hole and left."

Remus Lupin knew that Dumbledore could glean more information from an idle conversation then most wizards could from an autobiography of the man he was talking to. He doubted that Connor was aware of everything he had probably given away to the old wizard while they 'just talked' and walked the halls. He wondered what Dumbledore's impressions of young Connor had been, and if he had even stopped in to talk to Minerva or Severus before departing. The last he had heard from Dumbledore, he had been living in Switzerland for a few months, visiting with a great grand niece or some such relative, who was studying rare minerals in the mountains there. Harry must have written a compelling letter on his son's behalf to bring Albus all the way back to Scotland for an hour's visit with the boy. Letting nothing of his amazement show, Remus patted Connor's shoulder and reassured him again that he would be working to get him back on the Quidditch team before retiring to his office to grade some papers before classes tomorrow.

Connor spent the morning in the common room, watching with Zack as the other Gryffindors used the 'magic' markers to color happily on any bit of parchment they could lay their hands on. He read his letters from home and basked in the warmth of his family's indignation over his Quidditch ban, and laughed at the things that Lucy had said she would like to do to Vanessa Malfoy, given the chance. His parents had more practical advice for him, telling him to keep practicing with the team and that they would think of a way to convince the other teams that his precognitive abilities posed no threat to anyone's chances of winning. His father mentioned briefly that he'd had a letter from Dumbledore, and that it had put his mind at ease, though Connor wasn't quite sure he understood why. Perhaps the old wizard hadn't told his parents about his belief the Connor was seeing the future, or maybe he had just let them know that he had warned Connor against acting rashly. At any rate, Connor was glad that his parents weren't as worried as they had been before, and he silently sent out thanks to Professor Dumbledore for whatever he had seen fit to tell his parents.

The rest of the day after lunch was spent on his broom, out with Carolyn Scott and Aiden and Ivy, who had agreed to help beat bludgers at them as they traveled up and down a stretch of grass at the far edge of the lake. The Hufflepuff team had commandeered the Quidditch pitch for the day, leaving the Gryffindors to practice as best they could. A light but steady rain had begun to fall in mid afternoon, and so they retired to their common room, secure in the knowledge that Carolyn would be able to ignore the bludgers enough to concentrate on the Quaffle during the match next Saturday.

Sunday night was committed to finishing homework assignments at the last minute, and revising for the impromptu test that Connor advised them would be sprung on the second year students in potions the next morning.

Connor slept well that night, with no discernable dreams of any kind. He woke in the morning in a fairly good mood, all things considered, and collected his potions and charms books. He followed his friends out of the portrait hole to go and have breakfast before facing the upcoming potions test, and looked forward to another afternoon of Quidditch practice, eager to help show the other house teams that Gryffindor didn't need precognition to beat them on the pitch.

The Great Hall was noisier than usual, and Connor looked around to see that many people were reading copies of the Daily Prophet, or else reading over the shoulders of other students that had a copy.

"What's going on?" Connor asked Aiden, who had a copy of the paper in his hands as they passed him and sat down at the table.

Before Aiden had a chance to answer, however, several owls landed before Connor, or else dropped their letters onto his empty plate as they swooped over his head and out of the Great Hall again. He didn't recognize any of the owls, and so was confused as to the nature of all of the deliveries. He quickly untied the letters from as many as they could, just to get the owls off of the table and away from him; they were causing a mess in their eagerness to complete their deliveries. Finally Rachel and the others helped him to dispatch the birds, and Connor was left with a pile of at least two-dozen letters, all addressed to him.

"What is going on?" he asked again, looking around at the rest of the students staring back at him.

Without a word, Aiden simply held up his copy of the Daily Prophet and showed him the headline.

_Harry Potter's Son A Seer?_

Connor groaned and snatched the paper out of his cousin's hands, vaguely aware that Professors McGonagall and Lupin were approaching him.

"_Could the eldest son of the famous Harry Potter be a seer? This Daily Prophet reporter has recently received several owls from parents of Hogwarts students, and some current students, reporting that Connor James Potter, a second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and son of the famous Harry Potter can, indeed, predict the future! From accounts of many of the students at the school, young Connor saved the life of a first year student who nearly plummeted to her death from the topmost tower of the school during an Astronomy lesson. Sources say that the girl would most assuredly have died had Connor not suddenly appeared shortly after midnight to raise the alarm, leading two prefects, a close friend, and a professor in performing a levitation charm to halt the girl's fall._

_It soon became evident to this reporter that there was a cover-up about young Mr. Potter's talents in progress at the school, where students have evidently been warned against approaching Connor regarding his abilities. One student reported that they had been threatened with an outrageous amount of house point deductions and month-long detentions if any of them were caught even speaking to Connor about his recently exposed aptitude for predicting the future._

_Despite the fact that Connor has repeatedly denied that he can see the future, further proof of his abilities can been found in the fact that he has recently been banned from the Gryffindor House Quidditch team where he had a place as a chaser. Headmistress Minerva McGonagall was forced last week to suspend Connor from playing, due to the fact that his ability to see the future would certainly give his team an unfair advantage over the other Hogwarts houses._

_One can only wonder what other talents the Potter family is hiding about their son. Harry Potter, famous for his defeat of the Dark Wizard, You-Know-Who, has long been said to be one of the most powerfully magical wizards alive today. Is it any wonder that his children should begin to exhibit strong magical abilities as well? Harry Potter and his wife, Ginevra are parents to four children; we can only wonder what is being kept from the general Wizarding public about any of them."_

Connor finished reading the last paragraph of article that he could stomach aloud to his friends. He had steadily become angrier as he read, and finally gave up in disgust, though there were a few more paragraphs of made-up drivel left in the column.

"Connor," Professor Lupin was standing behind him, as was Professor McGonagall. They had been waiting for him to finish reading.

"Well I don't have to guess what these are all about, do I?" Connor said sourly, gesturing to the pile of recently delivered letters.

"I guess not," Professor Lupin answered. "Why don't you let us take these away for now? Professor McGonagall and myself will sort through them and write appropriate responses to the requests or any that are just plain... mean spirited."

Professor McGonagall nodded and began to gather up the stack of letters. "Go on and have some breakfast," she told the table in general. "Classes will begin soon."

Lupin put a hand on Connor shoulder and leaned down to say quietly in his ear, "Come and see me after classes. I may have a solution to the Quidditch suspension at least."

Connor nodded, and even though his appetite had fled, he forced himself to eat some toast before heading down to the dungeons, whispers of other students following him as he went.

The potions test wasn't as bad as Connor had expected, and he knew that he had gotten full marks for it. In the hallway, between the dungeon and the Charms classroom, Connor was subjected to more whispering, and a few of the braver student who were unhappy with him tried to trip him as he walked or made rude comments. One student actually tried to hex him as he stood waiting for Professor Flitwick to arrive and let them all into the classroom. Luckily, as he had demonstrated in Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, he sensed that the hex was coming and easily dodged it, causing even more excited whispers amongst the witnesses. Zack only just refrained from hexing the student back, and was rewarded for his restraint when a Ravenclaw prefect stopped the boy and issued him a detention and docked points from his house. To be fair, there were a few other students who smiled encouragingly at Connor in the hallway, and one or two whispered nice things to him as they passed.

At lunch, more letters arrived, and Connor merely picked his way through the stack to make sure that none of them were from his family, and set the stack aside. It wasn't until no less than three large owls delivered a large box bearing the logo for Honeydukes Sweetshop that Connor became curious enough to open any of his mail.

"So you think it's really from Honeydukes?" Quentin asked as Connor stared at it.

He shrugged and looked to the head table to see that Professor McGonagall was already hurrying over to him, obviously worried that the box might contain something unpleasant. She took the stack of letters and the box away into a small antechamber behind the head table, and returned a few minutes later with the box opened and a smile on her face.

"These are for you Mr. Potter," she said, setting the box full of sweets in front of him, along with an open letter. "And deservedly so. Good day."

"Wow, Con!" Aiden said, peering into the box to see about a hundred packages of chocolate frogs and Fizzing Whizbees and others of his favorites. "Who sent you that?"

Connor picked up the opened letter and began to read, a smile growing on his face as he did so. "It's from Mr. and Mrs. Green, thanking me for saving their daughter. Mr. Green works for the confectioner that makes the chocolate frogs." Connor's eyes drifted up and down the Ravenclaw table until he spotted Cicely, sitting with her cousin Sharon Whitaker, both of whom were watching him with happy grins. They waved to him in acknowledgement, and went back to their lunch once he waved back.

"It's about time you got some thanks out of all of this," Rachel muttered, clearly not talking about the sweets, but the letter that she was currently reading that had come along with the gift.

Connor shared his sweets with his cousins and friends, and then took the remainder of them up to his room to put in his cupboard. He retrieved his transfiguration book and sighed with relief that he only had one class left to the afternoon, and then he would be free until his midnight Astronomy lesson. He walked to transfiguration wondering if Professor Lupin would have a class for the final hour of the day while Connor was free; he was anxious to hear about the Professor's possible solution to his Quidditch woes.

"Where are you going, Con?" Ivy asked him as they left the Transfiguration classroom and he began to turn the opposite direction from them.

"Lupin wanted to see me after classes," he said with a shrug, not wanting to answer any questions until after he had talked to the professor. "I'll see you later at practice."

He made his way through the corridors, ignoring the stares of others as he made his way toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. To his relief, he found that Professor Lupin appeared to be finished teaching for the afternoon, and was covering a large tank full of murky brown water as Connor walked in.

"Connor!" he greeted the boy cheerfully. "Come on up to my office. Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please," Connor said, following the professor up the steps. He knew that the offer of tea also came with the iced oatmeal biscuits he favored, and he was hungry.

Pleased when the professor offered him the biscuits, Connor took one and waited while the tea was made. Professor Lupin's desk was piled high with papers, and he guessed that the older man had fallen behind in his work due to the full moon.

"I see you've spotted your mail," Professor Lupin said lightly, noticing the direction of his gaze. "I've only had a chance to look through about a third of it. Professor McGonagall has a stack that she is working on as well, though there's bound to be more over the coming days. There are actually a few that you might be interested in reading. There are some out there who are supportive and kind, you know; they're not all opportunists." Connor made a non-committal noise and accepted his teacup, and Lupin sat across from him and pulled out an envelope from the stack and handed it over to Connor. "That one is from Madam MacTaggart. I didn't read it, as I figured that it wouldn't have any requests for the out come of the Cannons versus the Magpies."

Connor rolled his eyes at the professor's attempt at humor and pocketed the letter. "You said that you thought you had a solution to my Quidditch suspension?"

"Yes, of course," the older man said. "Straight down to business. The match is only a few days away, now, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Connor agreed. "But I won't be playing in it."

"Don't be so sure," Lupin said encouragingly.

"No," Connor said firmly. "I won't be playing in it. We want the whole school to see that we can still beat them, no matter who's playing for Gryffindor."

Lupin studied him over the rim of his teacup as he sipped and nodded slowly. "I'm impressed, Connor. In fact, I think that it's an excellent idea, strategically, though it probably feels lousy from where you're sitting. At any rate, it would give me more time to properly word the contract."

"Contract?" Connor's eyebrows contracted, making a deep furrow in his brow, and if he had known it, reminded Remus forcefully his father at that age.

"Yes," Lupin replied in a satisfied sort of voice. "A magically binding contract, in fact, that will state something to the effect that you will not use your abilities to boost Gryffindor's chances of winning at Quidditch. It will have to be carefully worded so that there can be no mistake, and there would need to be a charm of some sort cast on it. Say, if you were to use precognition to alter the outcome of a match, then the charm would come into effect and turn you purple and Gryffindor would have to forfeit the match. Something along those lines."

Connor felt a genuine smile tugging at his lips, and couldn't help but grin.

%%%%%%%%%%%%

"So Professor Lupin is going to write up a contract that you'll have to sign, saying that you won't use your abilities to win, and if you do you'll turn purple?" Rachel asked, highly amused. "Literally?"

"That pretty much sums it up," Connor said. He had caught up with his friends in the common room, and was tugging on his boots so that he could get down to the Quidditch pitch for the practice that would take place right after everyone else got out of classes for the day. He was glad that he would only have to wear a reserve player's robes for a few more days if all went well. "He said that he actually got the idea from a charmed parchment that your mum made back when she was at Hogwarts, Rachel."

"Sounds brilliant to me," Zack said, relieved to see something happening in Connor's favor for a change.

"It's still a shame that you won't be playing against Hufflepuff," Quentin sulked. "Carolyn's good and all, but not as good as you."

"She'll be pretty darn close by the game on Saturday," Connor promised. "Even if it kills us both! I'm going to drill her today on switching up the plays to keep the Hufflepuffs off balance. You and Amanda will be able to signal her in to which plays you're doing."

They took their time traveling down to the pitch; the bell to signal the end of classes was ringing as Ivy, Quentin and Connor walked out of the main doors toward the pitch.

"So," Ivy said as they walked across the wet grass together. "When are we all going to plan our trip to the Ministry of Magic?"

Quentin looked over at Connor with interest, and Connor shrugged uncomfortably. "I'm not so sure _we _should," he said. "I've been thinking..."

"Whoa!" Quentin held up a hand and stopped them in their tracks. "If you think you're going by yourself, think again."

"No way, Connor!" Ivy scolded. "If you go, we all go!"

"You know," Quentin said reluctantly. "We _could_ just tell an adult. Lupin or McGonagall would be able to make sure someone was there to catch Samantha Tillman, and we wouldn't have to risk getting into trouble." He hadn't forgotten how disappointed his parents had been in Vanessa when she had gotten into so much trouble."

Connor bit his lip and said, "I did think of that, but then changed my mind."

"Why?" Ivy asked curiously, though she was secretly pleased. She was eager to have an adventure like the ones she had heard her father tell her he had been involved in during his school years. Encountering three headed dogs in forbidden corridors in the middle of the night, joining secret defense clubs, discovering that he had been using the wrong wand for five years and getting a new one that boosted his magical abilities by half... she wanted to have stories like that to tell to her own children.

"Well I got to thinking about it," Connor answered. "What if telling an adult changes something about what I saw? What if she somehow finds out that people are going to be there waiting for her and she decides not to show up? What if they screw it up somehow? There must be a reason I saw those things and not someone else, doesn't there?"

"That does make some sense," Quentin agreed. "But that just reinforces what I said before about you going alone. You saw all of us there; what would happen if you left us behind, and it turned out that one of us was supposed to do something important? That could ruin everything as well."

Connor had not really thought of that, and did not have a response. Quentin and Ivy smiled at each other over their victory, and urged Connor down to the Quidditch pitch for practice.

Practice went well, with the first team and the reserves having a brutal scrimmage against one another. By the end of it, Quentin had a black eye thanks to Ivy's beating skills, and Connor had a row of three neat fingernail scratches across one cheek where Amanda Barton had made a vicious swipe for the Quaffle he had knocked from her grasp. Ivy was rubbing her sore arms and grinning from ear to ear as the game to an end with the first team winning by only 160 points. A group of Gryffindors had wandered down to the pitch to watch the practice game, and were all cheering loudly as the teams landed, boosting their spirits even higher.

After at quick shower, and some even faster first aid, the team made their way up to the castle for a late dinner, surprised that the scrimmage had lasted well over three hours. Connor had been hoping to get in a nap before his midnight Astronomy lesson, but knew he had too much homework to indulge himself. Professor Snape, particularly aggravated that day, had assigned a three-foot essay about a chapter they hadn't even read yet, due at the next class period, which meant that he only had tonight or tomorrow to finish it. He also had short Charms and Transfigurations assignments to complete, plus whatever homework Professor Sinistra gave them for Astronomy tonight. He took his potions book to an armchair in the corner and began to read, soon joined by Zack and Quentin, all silently cursing the potions master.

At eleven thirty, a group of fifteen sleepy Gryffindor second years left through the portrait hole and made their way through the silent castle toward the Astronomy Tower, carrying their collapsible brass telescopes along with them. Connor tried not to think about his trip to the astronomy tower in the middle of the night. Had it really been less than a week ago? As they climbed up the spiraling stone staircase and emerged at the top of the highest tower at Hogwarts, he thought of what it must have been like for Cicely Green to fall from such a height. The tower itself provided an unobstructed view of the night sky, and had a waist-high wall around its flat roof. Many of the students were known to sit on this wall at times, especially when Professor Sinistra was lecturing. The low wall was at least three feet thick, and gave an air of safety to those who didn't lean too far out. Connor's stomach felt queasy as he observed for himself, for the first time since Cicely had fallen, just how far the drop was.

"Please, Mr. Potter!" Connor felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder and he turned to see Professor Sinistra looking stern. "I do not wish to have a repeat of last week. One student falling from the tower during class in my lifetime is quite enough."

"Sorry," Connor muttered. "I was just wondering how it was she managed to fall."

"From what I was told, Miss Green stood on the wall in an attempt to get a better glimpse of something on the grounds, and one of her friends startled her and she unbalanced and toppled from the wall. The rest, I believe you already know."

Connor nodded.

"I haven't had the opportunity to thank you, Connor," the professor said quietly. "If not for you... well, let's just say twenty five points to Gryffindor, shall we?"

Connor grinned at her and took his place at one of the tripods that was set up at even intervals around the tower. He mounted his telescope in place and concentrated on the lesson. It had turned out to be a good day after all.


	32. Chapter 30

**A/N – Hey! I beta-ed version at last! Better late than never, I guess, even if there are only a few chapters left to the story! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I'm still working on 31, then it'll need to go to the beta, so posts may slow down a bit. We're nearing the end of the story, and I want to make sure to tie up all loose ends neatly!**

**MissCorker** – Thank you very much! I do try!

**Flamingteen** – Geez! Way to make me feel ancient! I got a good laugh out of your observation, as I don't feel very old at all!

**LadyLupinLover** – All things for a purpose!! (Can't say more about that yet!)

**Gaia-of-the-Earth** – Sorry – Even _I_ am not that quick! Hope the wait was worth it!

**Dnd4ever** – Thanks!

**Brittney **– Before Wednesday, as requested (though it really is just coincidence!)

**Hannah C. Thaw** – Yes there will, thanks!

**Sorry if I didn't get to address everyone's comments here, but I really do appreciate each and every one! Please don't stop!**

**Chapter 30**

_"Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known." – Carl Sagan_

The rest of the week was a blur of Quidditch practice, classes, homework, and more Quidditch practice. After class on Thursday, Professor Lupin pulled Connor aside. He told him that his contract had been approved by Professor McGonagall, and was ready to be signed so he could rejoin the team.

On Friday afternoon, Connor found himself in the Headmistress's office surrounded by all of the team captains and their head of houses. Professor McGonagall read the three-page contract to all of them and made it understood that all possible contingencies had been addressed, and that once Connor signed the contract, he would be magically bound to it. There was no way he could use his precognition to his own team's advantage without it becoming evident to anyone who saw him. Though not happy about this particular development, the other captains agreed that Connor should be allowed to rejoin his team once the document had been signed and witnessed.

Once Connor had signed and left the office, Mariah had hugged him and grinned. Neither of them had mentioned to the other teams that Connor would not be playing in tomorrow's game, hoping to throw Hufflepuff off balance a bit. Connor was still a little upset that he was going to have to sit on the sidelines, but knew that it needed to be done to prove their point.

"We are _so_ going to kick Hufflepuff's butt tomorrow!" Mariah said cheerfully, leading the way down to the pitch for their last practice before the game.

Rain fell heavily during the night, and the next morning arrived with the unwelcome sight of puddles and mud as far as the eye could see. The Great Hall was noisy as the entire school discussed Connor's return to the Gryffindor team, and the Hufflepuff team could be seen huddled together at the end of their table, presumably plotting strategy. All eyes were on Connor and the other team members as they made their way to Gryffindor table, and Connor made sure to sit beside Carolyn, to encourage her and to go coax her into eating something before the match, completely ignoring his own meal. Quentin looked a little green, but managed to eat a few bites of toast before Mariah signaled the team to the follow her out the to the changing room. All players, first team and reserve dressed and kitted up, then gathered around for the pre-game pep talk.

"Okay Lions!' Mariah said loudly, a fierce look on her face. "The other teams have tried to wrong-foot us by trying to block Connor from playing. They've spent the past week trying to trip all of us up or hexing us in the corridors, and they've made insulting remarks. We all know why they've been doing this; they're scared. They are terrified of us because we've got the best team in the school right now. Connor is allowed to play on the team now, but he's going to sit this one out because we all want to prove that our win against Slytherin was legitimate, and that we didn't need anything but our Quidditch skills to whip those snakes like we're going to do to the badgers today." The rest of the team gave an appreciative cheer. "Carolyn has been training hard with Connor and I know that she's ready to help us win!"

The team cheered once more, and then Mariah spent the next thirty minutes going over strategy while the stands outside filled up with students eager to see which team would emerge victorious at the end of the match. When they filed out onto the field, and Connor turned and took his place with the reserve team, the Hufflepuff captain looked panicked for a moment and called his players into a quick huddle, no doubt trying to figure out what the rival team was trying to pull. Connor kept his face impassive as Carolyn marched out onto the field with Quentin and Amanda and mounted her broom. It was strange to be watching from the sidelines now that he knew what it felt like to be a part of a real game, and he felt a pang when Madam O'Leary blew her whistle and signaled for the players to kick off from the ground.

Fourteen pairs of feet kicked off of the wet ground with a squelching sound as fourteen broomsticks rose up into the air. Connor sat at the edge of his seat as he watched the bludgers and the snitch being released, clenching his teeth in his tension as the Quaffle was tossed high into the air, and the chasers from both sides made lightning fast grabs for it. He was on his feet cheering at the top of his voice, Ivy right beside him as Carolyn expertly snagged the big red ball and deftly maneuvered her broom out of the cluster of players who had been trying to gain first possession. He completely ignored the commentary as he watched the Gryffindor chasers dominate the game, passing the Quaffle smoothly from one player to another, and retrieve the ball when the Hufflepuff chasers managed to get possession. Connor winced and cheered loudly when Quentin and Amanda worked together to confuse the Hufflepuff keeper enough to make him fly headlong into one of his own hoops. While the opposing keeper was still slightly dazed, Carolyn rushed in to score.

The game was turning particularly vicious by the time they had been in the air for an hour, with fouls being committed left and right by both sides. The snitch appeared twice during the first hour, but quickly disappeared before being caught. When a time out was called, Ivy leaned over to Connor and said gleefully, "We've got this in the bag! Even if Hufflepuff gets the snitch, they'll never catch us up on points!"

Her prediction turned out to be truth. In the next half hour, Gryffindor was so far ahead, that Hufflepuff would have had to score seventeen times to even the odds. When the snitch appeared again, practically right in front of Whitney Glendale's face, the Gryffindor seeker simply lifted her hand and plucked it out of the air, effectively ending the game with Gryffindor leading 410 points to Hufflepuff's dismal 80. Connor leapt over the railing separating the reserve line up from the field and dropped onto his broom in one smooth move, letting himself hear the commentator's voice ring out over the screaming crowd, "And Gryffindor proves once and for all that their team is the strongest their team has had in a decade! Any doubts as to whether or not they have what it takes, with or without Connor Potter have been completely wiped out in today's awesome display of Quidditch skill!"

Of course, the commentator was a Gryffindor, so his announcement may have been _slightly_ biased, but Connor was overjoyed at how well his team had played. He flew over to the members of his team and began what was to turn out to be a very long and happy victory celebration.

By the end of the night, Connor had consumed enough Butterbeers to feel slightly foggy brained, and sat contentedly by the fire long after most of his housemates had retired for the night. His eyelids were heavy, and he couldn't muster up enough energy to drag himself up the staircase to his dormitory room. Before he knew it, his eyes were closed and he was walking down a long corridor, clutching a piece of parchment in his hands that he recognized as the map he had drawn of the round room at the Department of Mysteries, with rooms leading off of it.

_"Are we going the right way?" Ivy asked him nervously. She was very close to his left shoulder, and they were walking quickly._

_"I think so," Connor answered her. "That round room should be right up ahead, just past that door."_

_"This is it, then," Rachel said to his right, looking anxiously over her shoulder. "Everything should be over soon."_

_"Let's get it done, then," Connor said, and pushed the door open, striding inside._

_The first sign that something had gone terribly wrong was the klaxon type wailing of an alarm. The next definite sign that things were not as they should be was the fact that the ground beneath his feet was shifting, and he was falling backward into empty space._

"Oof!" was the only noise he could make as he landed flat on his back with the strangest feeling of sliding backward, head first. "What the...?"

Opening his eyes, Connor tried to puzzle out what was happening to him, but was kept from clear thought by the appearance of several students in their pajamas emerging and staring at him with expressions ranging from scandalized to knowing smirks.

"Connor!" his cousin Victoria was sliding down the girls' dormitory staircase looking cross.

_Sliding down the staircase_? Connor wondered how hard he had hit his head. "What happened?" he asked blearily as the wailing died away.

"What on earth were you doing trying to get up the girl's stairs for?" his cousin demanded.

Several other girls giggles, and there was some derisive laughter from a group of sixth and seventh year boys who had rushed out to see what all of the commotion was about.

"I wasn't!" Connor denied, feeling the heat flood his cheeks at the implication that he had been trying to sneak into the girl's dorms. "I...I must have been sleepwalking!"

"Nice cover story, Potter!" one of the boys called out. Connor noticed Zack and Quentin standing a few steps up the boy's staircase, looking down at him curiously.

By now two of the Gryffindor Prefects were standing over him, helping him to his feet and wondering what they should do. Connor was still protesting that he must have been sleepwalking when the portrait hole opened, and a disheveled looking Professor Lupin appeared in his dressing gown, slightly out of breath. He took in the scene, including the girl's staircase having been turned into a slide, and everyone standing around in their pajamas looking confused.

"Which of you boys tried to sneak into the girl's dorms?' he asked with a smirk.

"This one, Sir," one of the prefects answered, nudging Connor in the back, making him take an involuntary step forward.

"Connor?" Professor Lupin's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

Connor felt his face flush an even darker shade of red and exclaimed, "No!"

The professor smiled and chuckled, and then pointed his wand at the staircase, making the steps reappear. "The rest of you get back to bed," he said with some amusement. "I'll sort this out with Connor." He waited patiently for all of the students to go back to their beds, and then gestured for Connor to take a seat before the dying fire, sitting across from him.

Connor's face was still burning as he faced Professor Lupin and said, "I wasn't trying to sneak into the girl's rooms."

"Thank Merlin for that!" Lupin said with feeling. "I didn't want to have to write to your father and ask him to come to the school to give you 'the talk'."

"Uncle Remus!" Connor croaked, embarrassed beyond words. He was surprised that his cheeks weren't glowing in the dim light by now. "Dad already... I mean I know... It isn't like that!"

To his credit, Remus Lupin didn't laugh outright at Connor's discomfort, but it was a close thing. "So what made you try to climb those stairs?" he asked. "A bet? Dare?"

"No," Connor said, keeping his eyes on the floor. "I was just sleepwalking."

"Sleepwalking?" All traces of humor fled from his voice and he asked with concern, "Did you have another dream?"

"Sort of," Connor shrugged uncomfortably. "Really just the same dream as before. I was just walking down a long hallway, and then suddenly all these sirens are going off and I'm flat on my back at the bottom of the girls' staircase with Victoria shouting at me."

"Have you been sleepwalking a lot?' he asked quietly, studying the young man in front of him, searching for clues in his body language as to what he was thinking.

"No," Connor answered truthfully. "I did it once at home at Christmastime, but this is the first time I've ever done it at school. I fell asleep in that chair, and then suddenly I was on the floor over there."

"Okay," Lupin said after a moment of studying Connor's expression and thinking about his words. "Well you should go on up to bed then, and try to stay there this time."

Connor nodded and stood, bidding the professor good-night, and feeling slightly guilty that his uncle had obviously been at home at the shrieking shack when he'd tripped the girl's dormitory alarm. He must have come through the Floo and practically run at top speed to the seventh floor from his office on the second floor to find out what the problem was. As he watched the older man climb back out through the portrait hole, he wondered absently how he had known that there had been trouble. With a shrug, he turned and climbed the staircase, thinking he should write down the details of him dream in his journal before retiring for the night.

Connor wasn't surprised to find that Quentin, Zack and Andrew were all awake and waiting to find out what had happened to him. They seemed a bit disappointed to learn that he really had only been sleepwalking, and not really trying to sneak up on the girls; imagining that he had been attempting some sort of prank. Once everyone settled back down and drew the hangings on their beds, Connor pulled out his journal and recorded the dream, though it had been very brief and seemed to give him very little information.

He put his journal away, and lay back with a huge yawn, thinking to himself that even if the dream hadn't given him anything new about the Department of Mysteries, he had learned that Professor Lupin apparently had some way of knowing when there was trouble at hand. It hadn't taken him long to arrive once that alarm had gone off, and now that he thought about it, he had appeared rather quickly right after Cicely Green fell from the Astronomy Tower. He needed to figure out how Lupin had known he was needed, all the way from the Shrieking Shack, so that they didn't get caught when they caused a little trouble of their own on April first.

Even though the next day was Sunday, Connor found himself wide-awake at seven o'clock, and unable to fall back to sleep. Dressing in jeans and the jumper that his mother had made for him for Christmas, he left his friends sleeping and made his way down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast. He was just finishing some eggs and toast, and putting a couple of apples into his pocket for later, when a familiar owl flew in through a high window and landed in front of him.

"Hello, Thor," Connor greeted the large barn owl. It was one of several owls that his father kept for delivering things for Dog Star Brooms, and he was carrying a small box with a letter attached to his legs. Connor fed Thor some bacon rinds and let him drink from his goblet while he untied that package, and then the bird took flight again with a thankful hoot.

"What have you got there, Con?" Rachel asked. She had just come down the row of tables to sit beside him, as always a relatively early riser like her mother.

"Don't know," he answered. "It's from my folks, though. Here, you open this." He passed the small box to his cousin as he broke the seal on the letter and opened it up. His parents had written to tell him how happy they were about his reinstatement to the Quidditch team, and how proud they were of him for his perseverance with all of recent troubles. There was a mention of Madam MacTaggart in the letter, and Connor realized that he had never read the letter that Professor Lupin had given him almost a week ago. He had pocketed it, and promptly forgotten all about it. He resolved to search his robes after breakfast to see what she had to say.

Connor finished his letter and looked over to see that the small box had bee full of photographs. Rachel as slowly going through a stack of them, smiling at the subjects and giggling here an there as they did something funny. Most of the pictures had been taken over the Christmas holidays, and Connor grinned when he saw that one of them was of Zack, Quentin and himself on their broomsticks outside of Potter Headquarters. He knew as soon as he saw it that he was going to have to frame it for his bedside table, and wondered what Zack's parents would think if they could see their son flying through the air on an item they might have used to sweep their floors. The rest of the pictures would go into his photo album, which he kept in the cabinet beside his bed.

He let Rachel finish looking at them, and then went back to his room, leaving her to finish her breakfast with some of the other first year students. By the time he got back to his room, Andrew had disappeared somewhere, and Zack and Quentin were still sound asleep. He pulled out his photo album and began sorting his new pictures and placing them onto the blank pages at the back with a temporary sticking charm. He was just finishing, leaving out a couple of pictures that he wanted to frame, when Quentin rolled out of bed and stumbled from the room in the direction of the loo. Shaking his head with a chuckle, Connor glanced over to Zack's bed, but there were no signs of consciousness from him. Andrew's bed was deserted, and Connor wondered if he was just an early riser or if dreams about his father's 'illness' kept him from sleeping well.

While pondering about Andrew, Connor's eyes fell on his bedside table, to an album similar to the one that he had in his own lap. Curiosity made Connor set his own book aside and walk stealthily to Andrew's bedside table and pick up the other boy's book.

"What are you doing?" Quentin asked, startling Connor. Quentin was standing in his sleep rumpled pajamas, still looking tired.

"This is Andrew's," Connor said. "I was just wondering if maybe he has a picture of his grandmother in it."

"You mean a picture of Samantha Tillman?" Quentin asked, moving over to have a look for himself.

"Yeah," Connor nodded, feeling a little guilty about invading Andrew's privacy this way. "I just wanted to see if it really is her that I'm dreaming about. Should I look?"

"Go on," Quentin urged. "I don't see what it could hurt. Andrew's gone down to breakfast, I think, so he won't know."

Connor nodded and carefully opened the cover of the book. Many of the pictures were obviously Andrew and his parents; it appeared that Andrew was an only child. Connor didn't linger on any of the photographs, but quickly scanned each page until he found what he was looking for near the very back. "There she is," he breathed. It was almost bizarre for Connor to see this moving likeness of the woman in her dreams. She was even wearing the same color of blue robes, and smiled prettily up at him with a wink as she waved in a friendly manner. She didn't look as though she could ever have harmed a fly, much less supported the most evil wizard who had ever lived.

"Doesn't look evil," Quentin observed, mirroring Connor's thoughts.

Connor took one last long look at Samantha Tillman before closing the book. The sound of footsteps approaching made Connor hastily replace the book on the table and step over to his own bed, seeing that Quentin had retreated to his trunk to retrieve some clothes for the day.

"My folks sent me some pictures from Christmastime," Connor told Quentin. "There's a really good one of you, me and Zack on out brooms from that day you came over."

No sooner had he uttered these words, than Andrew came into the room and went straight to his trunk to look for something.

"Good morning," he greeted them as he passed.

"Morning," they both answered, trying not to look guilty.

Andrew found the book he was looking for in his trunk, and turned to leave when he stopped and looked over at his photo album. He looked from it over to his roommates, with a speculative expression, and then picked it up and locked it in his trunk without comment before leaving the room. Both boys heaved a sigh of relief and felt a little prickle of shame at sneaking a look at the other boy's private possession.

"So what are we all going to do today?" Quentin asked, looking for an excuse to get past the awkward moment.

"I'm going to the library," Connor said. "If I'm going to be going to the Ministry of Magic in three weeks, I want to know as much as possible about it before I get there."

"I think you mean if we are going to go to the Ministry," Quentin corrected firmly. "Let me just get my shoes on, and I'll come with you."

"Don't you want some breakfast first?" Connor asked, not sure he should be encouraging his friends to aid and abet the planning of a crime.

"Nah," Quentin said, sensing that Connor was trying to subtly cut his friends out of his plans. "I'll make up for it at lunch."

"Make up for what?" Zack asked sleepily from his bed.

"Missing breakfast to go to the library to plan our little adventure on April Fool's Day," Quentin answered. He thought it best to have the others involved as well, so that Connor would be outnumbered when he tried to convince them that they should stay behind.

"I'm in," Zack answered. "I'll meet you in the library once I get dressed and stuff." Ivy had told him last night about Connor's plan to leave them behind and go to the Ministry by himself, and he agreed with them that it was their duty as Connor's friend to make sure that didn't happen. He intended to find Ivy and Rachel as soon as the other two boys left, and drag them along as well.

Connor sighed and nodded, admitting defeat as he grabbed his school bag and made sure that he had plenty of quills, ink and parchment. His friends must really want to help him if they were willing to spend yet another Sunday in the library with the vulture-like Madam Pince glaring at them all suspiciously. This could prove to be a very long day.


	33. Chapter 31

**A/N- Here is chapter thirty-one, though it is un-betaed (apparently I forgot to send it to her). Sorry for the delay, but we are coming up on the end and most exciting part of this fic (only a few chapters left), and I want to make sure that everything that needs to be said gets said. If you find that the chapters are taking too long to be uploaded, you might bear in mind that I have several other fics that you could read while you wait. Most are one-shots, though I do have a completed, chaptered fic featuring the Weasley twins. It's called "No Laughing Matter" if you're interested. Lots of romance and intrigue and angst and whatnot.**

**Anyway, thanks to all of the people who left feedback on the last chapter - both of you!**

**Chapter 31**

_Time only seems to matter when it's running out. --Peter Strup_

Sunday had been a productive day in the library, and Connor had taken copious notes on the Ministry of Magic and where all of its departments were located. Ivy, Rachel, Quentin and Zack were doing their best to find every book that had ever been written about the Ministry, but it was Rachel who struck gold after a couple of hours of searching. She unearthed a huge book called _Modern Wizarding Government in Great Britain_ that had a foldout map of the Ministry of Magic offices. Most of the map had a lot of detail, but the entire ninth floor was blank, except to show where an elevator let into a corridor, a door that lead into the Department of Mysteries, and a staircase to the left of the door. They had spent the better part of the morning making notes on where all of the Floo connections were, and where security checkpoints were marked.

They broke for lunch and were only interrupted by the arrival of six or seven owls from people that Connor had never heard of. Professor McGonagall had come to scoop them up and take them away with her, saying that she would return anything worth reading. They ate their lunch quickly and hurried back to the library, garnering strange looks from teachers and student alike, who wondered why five second-year students were so keen to spend a day off cooped up in the tall stacks of books.

Getting back to their research, Connor noted that there were only a few Floo connections other than the several fireplaces in the Atrium on the eighth level. Of course there was a connection in the Department of Magical Transportation; that was to be expected. The Minister of Magic had an outgoing Floo connection only. In fact, it seemed that there was one Floo connection on each floor in the office of the Head of each overall Department except for levels nine (the Department of Mysteries) which was only accessible by lift, and ten (a courtroom reserved for trials involving the full court) which was only accessible by stairs. They began their strategy from there, trying to figure out the best way to gain entrance to the Ministry building itself before worrying about how they were going to get into the Department of Mysteries.

When Madam Pince had announced at three o'clock that she was closing the library for the remainder of the day, they had quickly nominated Ivy to check the book out, since Madam Pince favored her over the other students. The old librarian would sometimes take the stance that certain books were too valuable to leave the library, or that they qualified as reference materials, thus should not be allowed to be checked out. They did not want to take any chances, and so sent Ivy, whom she couldn't seem to refuse. They retreated to Gryffindor Tower, but were unable to resume their planning without raising suspicion from their other housemates, so Connor took the book to his trunk and buried it beneath a stack of comic books.

For the next week, all of their free time away from other students was spent in the Library, or out on the grounds with the huge book and Connor's dream journal, planning strategy. They kept the Marauder's Map nearby to avoid being caught, and during the day, and after classes, they timed just how long it would take them to travel from Gryffindor Tower to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and Professor Lupin's office. After classes, they tried the same route via some of the secret passageways on the Marauder's Map to see if it was any faster and how long that particular route took if they were forced to use it. They planned their trip based on Connor's notes and journal entries, and spent a lot of time thinking up back-up plans that could be put into action once they got inside the Ministry, should anything go awry. There were a lot of possible pitfalls, and they wanted to be sure to have all contingencies covered before they found themselves in a situation they couldn't handle.

Sometime at the end of that week, the thought occurred to Connor that there was hardly a way out of all of this without getting caught if, indeed, they did manage to confront and detain Samantha Tillman. They could hardly just tie her up and leave a note for whomever found her, could they? And how were they going to manage to keep her from just porting out of there as soon as she spotted them, making the whole trip useless? With only two weeks to go until April first, Connor was getting increasingly nervous; and found himself letting thoughts of the whole ordeal distract him at odd times.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said icily on Wednesday morning. "As fascinating as I'm sure life inside your head undoubtedly is, your day dreaming will not be tolerated in this classroom. You have five minutes in which to complete your potion, and I will be deducting twenty points from Gryffindor if yours is in any way unsatisfactory."

"Yes sir," Connor answered, flushing guiltily and jerking his mind back to the task at hand. His housemates were looking at him worriedly, not wanting to loose so many points over his blunder, but Connor's mind seemed to have been working on automatic while he'd been thinking about the Department of Mysteries. When five minutes had passed and Snape told them to bottle samples, Connor's potion was the pure sparkling magenta color that it was supposed to be, and he was mercifully spared the point deduction.

"What's with you, Connor?" Zack asked as they left the dungeons and headed toward the Transfiguration classroom. "You've been acting funny all week."

"I'm nervous, I guess," he answered, not needed to explain where his anxiety stemmed from. "There's a lot that could go wrong, and we're bound to be caught, aren't we?"

"Not necessarily," Zack said, obviously not having thought their situation all the way through.

"No," Connor said seriously, stopping and stepping out of the flow of moving students. Zack, Ivy and Quentin followed him into a small alcove to hear what Connor had to say. "I mean, once we catch Samantha Tillman, _if_ we catch her, we're going to be caught no matter what we do. There's no way to avoid it. I mean, we can't just tie her up and leave her there for someone to find," he explained, voicing his fear.

Comprehension dawned on Zack and Quentin's faces, but Ivy looked thoughtful and asked, "Why _can't_ we?"

"Because she'd be able to tell whoever found her that we were there," Quentin answered at once.

"Not to mention that if we just left her there, there would be a chance that she could get away before anyone found her," Zack added.

"We're doomed," Connor groaned. "That's why I think that you guys should stay behind."

"Look," Zack said, sounding worried. "There has to be some way around this; we just have to think of it."

Connor looked doubtful, but the others seemed determined to find a way. They went to Transfiguration, but none of them had their minds on the lesson. When lunchtime rolled around, they met up with Rachel and told her about Conner's realization that they wouldn't make it out of the Department of Mysteries without being discovered.

"Actually, I've been thinking about that," Rachel said, surprising them. They all looked around furtively to make sure that no one was sitting too close to them. "There are a few possible scenarios to the way it could all happen, but at least one of us will probably have to be caught."

"Only one of us?" Connor asked, interested.

"If we can get in and stun her or whatever and keep her from getting away without being caught, then only one of us would have to stay once we were sure she was secure. The rest of us could sneak out through the Floo," Rachel said.

Connor's heart sank. "There's a couple of problems with that idea," he said heavily. "For one, I don't think any of us know how to stun anyone yet. For another thing, even if you all got out before you got caught, Mrs. Tillman would still be able to tell the Ministry workers that there was more than one person there. It wouldn't take a seer to guess who they were if I get caught."

"They can't do anything without proof, and she wouldn't be able to prove we were there," Rachel said calmly. "So all we need to do is learn a few extra spells."

"Er, Rachel?" Connor said. "You may be a genius and all, but stunning spells are fifth year level. How are we going to learn how to do it in just a couple of weeks?"

"From a book, of course!" she answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'll find what we need and then we can meet out on the grounds after classes to practice."

"I think I have a headache," Connor sighed. He couldn't escape the urgent feeling that they were running out of time.

True to her word, Rachel had somehow obtained a copy of _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 _by the end of the school day, and was waiting for the others by the ancient beech tree near the lake. Rachel particularly liked this spot on the grounds, because this was where her father had proposed to her mother. She was sitting in the shade of the large tree with her cloak wrapped closely around her, reading about stunning spells. They seemed fairly basic, and she wondered if she would be able to do it on the first try. As Connor and the others approached, Rachel decided that there was no time like the present, and whipped put her wand and cried, "_Stupefy_!"

Connor was a bit shocked to see Rachel pull out her wand and point it at him, and went with instinct as the red light that shot from her wand sped toward him. He ducked. The red light passed over his head, and a moment later, he felt a heavy weight fall on him from behind while Ivy gasped.

"Rachel!" he heard Quentin shout in accusatory tone.

Connor had been forced to his hands and knees when the weight hit him, and he was surprised when he straightened and saw Zack roll off of him and onto the soft grass, unmoving.

"Zack!" he said in surprise, shaking his shoulder to try to revive him. "Rachel, what did you do?"

"Stunned him," she said, sounding pleased. "I was aiming for you, though. Nice reflexes, by the way."

"Stunned him!" Connor all but shouted.

"Shhhh!" Rachel hushed him and looked around to make sure that no one had heard him. "Yes, stunned him. I didn't think I'd be able to do it on the first try."

"Can you wake him?" Ivy asked, looking pale.

"I think so," Rachel said with a slight frown, consulting the book for a moment. "_Enervate_!"

Zack's eyes fluttered open and he groaned while the others sighed in relief. "What happened?" he asked, bewildered.

"Rachel got you with a stunner," Quentin supplied.

"I was aiming for Connor, but he was too quick," Rachel admitted. "Plus I didn't think it would work the first time. We should all practice it, and whoever's getting stunned will have the others close by to catch them. It's really not too hard, though it can be dangerous if you get hit with more than one at a time. That's probably why it's a fifth year skill."

She went over the wand movement and incantation with them, and they all practiced it without wands before trying out on each other. Luckily the area they had chosen by the lake was not easily visible from the school, and the ground was nice and soft after a month of frequent rain. Their aim was so poor that, more often than not, the person being stunned stood braced for impact, and the stunner ended up accidentally hitting one of the people waiting to catch the intended 'victim'. Ivy in particular was having trouble hexing her friends, and so the spell only knocked them to the ground, but didn't knock them out. They all returned to the castle an hour and a half later for dinner with grass stains on the their robes, and bruises all over their bodies.

"If we keep this up," Connor groaned as he sagged into a seat at the dinner table. "We'll hit everyone _but_ Mrs. Tillman."

"We definitely need to practice our aim," Quentin agreed, rubbing his sore elbow.

"Not only that," Rachel said, "But we also need to learn other spells. We can't just go in there stunning anyone we run into. We should work on the full body bind, the leg-locker curse, a silencing charm…." She went on naming several other spells while the others look at her in disbelief.

"Rachel!" Zack complained. "Some of those spells are O.W.L. level. We only have a couple of weeks, you know."

"But what if we run into a situation where we nee to know…" Rachel argued, reminding Connor forcefully of his Aunt Hermione.

"Look," Connor said. "I'm already worried that you guys shouldn't even be coming with me in the first place. If we're going to go this, we have to keep it as simple as possible. Rachel, you need to pick out three or four spells that you think will be the most helpful, and that we can learn _fast_. We'll have to find time to work on them whenever we can."

They all nodded and ate their dinner in various degrees of trepidation and thought. Connor was trying to think of a way that they might escape from all of this without getting into serious trouble, while the others were thinking of ways to make sure that Connor did not try to leave them behind.

"Rachel," Connor said after several minutes of silence. "Where would I look to find out what could happen to us if we get caught inside the Ministry of Magic, in a highly restricted department, in the middle of the night?"

Ivy dropped her fork suddenly and looked surprised. Quentin and Zack both stopped chewing for a moment, and Rachel looked from left to right to make sure that no one had heard his question. "I'll look into it," she promised quietly.

Connor nodded seriously and said, "I want us all to know what the worst is that could happen to us before you all decide to do this. Besides that fact they our parents may very well kill us, we're talking about breaking Wizarding law. Zack is Muggle-born. What if he gets caught and his parents decide not to let him come back to school next year? What if we're all expelled?"

Zack swallowed hard. His parents were very strict in matters of appropriate behavior and obeying the rules; it was a very real possibility that they might react in just that way. There really wasn't any chance at all that he could keep something of that magnitude from his parents, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he didn't want to have to leave the magical world so soon after discovering it. He looked at Connor solemnly, and Connor looked back, seemingly reading his mind.

"I won't hold it against any of you if you decide not to come," Connor said.

"But _you'll_ still go?" Quentin asked Connor, though they all already knew the answer to that question.

Connor nodded.

"Then I'm going too," Rachel said firmly. "We're family, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let you do this alone."

"Let's get all the facts before anyone decides for sure," Connor said, though he was touched by the sentiment.

"You know," Quentin said thoughtfully. "They really shouldn't be able to expel us. We'd be in trouble with Magical Law Enforcement, of course, but the most the school could get us for would be breaking curfew, leaving school grounds without permission, and maybe something for using the Floo. It's not like we're going to hurt anyone, and if we're right about Mrs. Tillman, the good we do might just outweigh the bad, and we could get off with whatever it is our parents could do to us."

Connor shuddered at the thought of what his parents could do to him. It would probably make Vanessa Malfoy's punishment seem like summer camp! And that still didn't take away the worry over whether Mr. and Mrs. Ellis would withdraw their support of Zack attending Hogwarts.

They finished their dinner, and Rachel immediately headed for the library. Connor, Ivy Quentin and Zack all went back to Gryffindor Tower to work on the homework that they had been assigned that day. Connor was worried about the trip to the Ministry on April first, and his concentration on his homework was minimal as he chewed on the end of his quill and tried to puzzle out how to get his friends out of the Department of Mysteries. He figured that if he could just get them out of the restricted area before anyone discovered them, then they would be in less trouble than he would; he wasn't going to let anyone else be the one to be caught when the time came.

"Hey Connor!"

Connor flinched at the sound of his name. Lately, anyone hailing him from across the room someone wanted something from, or wanted to tease him. He relaxed when he looked up to see Aiden walking over.

"Hullo, Aiden."

"Hey," Aiden said to the group in general. "My dad just sent a stack of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes new catalogs. Thought you might want one for whatever it is you're planning for April Fool's day."

"What do you mean?" Connor asked as casually as he could, while his stomach tied itself in a knot.

"Well," Aiden said. "I've seen you guys all huddled together all over the castle, so I kind of decided to try to find out what you were up to. I, er, used an extendable ear, but the only thing I caught was April first."

Connor could not help but release a huge sigh of relief that Aiden didn't know what they were up to. Aiden grinned widely at this reaction, and said eagerly, "So you guys are planning an April Fool's joke? Can I help?"

"Er," Connor said. "We don't know if we'll be able to pull it off…"

"What is it?" Aiden asked, lowering his voice and waggling his eyebrows.

"Sorry," Quentin said. "Top secret."

"Oh come on!" Aiden pleaded.

"Sorry," Ivy repeated.

"Look," Connor said in what he hoped was a conspiratorial tone. "We might need some help a bit later; a distraction or something. We can't tell you what it is yet, though."

"A distraction, huh?" Aiden said excitedly. "Just let me know and how big!"

The others just nodded and watched tensely as he walked away whistling.

"We're going to have to be more careful to look out for those extendable ears when we're off planning," Zack said. "If anyone figures it out, we're sunk."

"And now I'm going to have to think up an April Fool's day joke to pull that's big enough to need a distraction from Aiden, so that he's not watching us all of that day, waiting for us to make any kind of move." Connor groaned at the thought of one more thing to worry about.

"I've got it covered," Ivy said suddenly, causing the boys to all look up at her.

"You have a stunt to pull that's big enough to need a distraction?" Quinten asked, smiling in spite of himself.

"Yep."

"Are you going to tell us what it is?" Zack asked.

The boys listened for a few moments, then grinned at her plan. Connor picked up the catalog that Aiden had left behind and began to idly thumb through the pages, homework forgotten. It wasn't until his eyes fell on an advertisement for a new WWW product that the wheels in his head began turning.

"How much money to you guys have?" he asked suddenly.

"I don't know," Zack said. "A few galleons in change, I guess."

"Same here," Quentin answered while Ivy nodded that she, too, had a few galleons.

"Me too," Connor confirmed. "Now look at this!"

He held up the catalog and showed him what had peaked his interest.

"_Chameleon Cloaks_," Zack read aloud. "_Can't afford an Invisibility cloak? Is your Disillusionment charm a disgrace? Try a Chameleon Cloak for your temporary invisibility needs! Made of a sturdy linen parchment, these cloaks are designed to be used up to a dozen times. Works by blending in to the surrounding area, rendering the wearer seemingly invisible! A bargain at the introductory price of only three galleons!_

"What do you think? They could come in handy," Connor said.

"I think it couldn't hurt," Ivy said. "If they work, like a disillusionment charm, then we wouldn't be invisible, but if we were just sitting still under them, they could hide us in a sticky situation."

The others nodded, and Connor pulled an order form from the back of that catalog. "I'll send it to Uncle George since he knows about the map; he'll think we're just planning a big prank when we order five cloaks."

Rachel came in just then, clutching a bulging schoolbag, which she dropped with a loud _thump_ on the table next to Quentin. "I found a couple of books that should tell us what we want to know about Wizarding law, but I didn't want to sit and read them in the library. Vanessa Malfoy was doing a detention in there, and she kept staring at me, so I checked them out and brought them back here. I'll try to look through them tonight and see if there's anything about underage law breakers."

Connor nodded, and told her about the Chameleon cloaks, explaining his thoughts about how these might help out with the first part of their plan. When he spotted a piece of flesh colored string lying on the floor, seemingly slithering across the run by their table, Connor said, "Nice try, Aiden," and stepped on the end of the extendable ear before allowing the other boy to withdraw it.

"We're going to have to be careful around that one," Rachel said sagely.

****


	34. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

"_An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." – Henry De Bracton_

The _Chameleon Cloaks_ arrived three days after Connor sent the order with the money they had pooled together. The deliveries came to the common room as requested, and so there were no suspicious teachers to ask pesky questions about a large order from the infamous joke shop. Ivy had also sent an order of her own, and it took two very large owls to deliver the package that she received in reply. Both packages were accompanied by a note from Fred and George Weasley asking for the details of their prank once it was all over, making them all grin when they read it. When the Connor asked Ivy about her own delivery, she simply said that it was for the April Fools day prank that they were going to need to pull to throw anyone who was suspicious off of the scent of their real plans, and that she was still working out the details.

As it was Saturday, it was very difficult to find a vacant spot on the grounds to practice the spells that Rachel had decided they needed to learn before their sojourn into the Ministry in just nine days. They had improved on the stunning spell, and moved on to the full body bind. Today, though, it seemed that the entire population of Hogwarts was out on the grounds or milling about the common room, forcing them to take an unwanted break from their 'studying'. They were sitting under the large beech tree again, a large hamper of food procured from some obliging house elves in front of them, watching as some fourth year girls flew multicolored kites in the air over the lake. The kites changed color as they floated on the breeze, and were really quite pretty to watch as they munched on apples and biscuits and talked quietly.

"Well I did some reading on magical law enforcement," Rachel told them quietly. She had already looked carefully around for signs of known eavesdropping devices, and found none. "And Quentin is right. If they were to try to expel us, we'd have a very good case against it, because the law wasn't broken on school property, and the rules that we'd break here wouldn't be severe enough to warrant expulsion."

"Are you sure about that?" Connor asked anxiously.

"Almost positive," Rachel confirmed. "In fact, I think that we can count on it, since Connor's and my parents, and Ivy's dad, all did pretty much the same thing back when they were at Hogwarts, and none of them were expelled. I don't know how, or even if, they were punished otherwise."

"That was the night Sirius Black was killed in a duel with Bellatrix Lastrange," Connor said. "What could be worse punishment than that?"

"Well none of us are going to be killed on this trip," Rachel said firmly. "Because there's not going to be a battle, and so we're probably going to end up being punished in one way or the other if we get caught. Now from what I've read, be could be summoned to a hearing, which would most likely take place at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in the Head's office. From there they would decide if any further action was warranted."

"And if we're found guilty?" Ivy asked. Suddenly the sandwich she had been eating seemed much less palatable. "What would happen to us then?"

"I think that it would depend on the severity of the crime," Rachel said. "If we just get caught in there, but we haven't hurt anyone, stolen anything or committed any vandalism, we might get off with a simple trespassing charge. Then again, this is the Department of Mysteries we're talking about here; if we see something we're not supposed to, they may actually modify our memories."

They looked at each other uneasily. Memory modification didn't sound like a very pleasant thing to endure. "What's the punishment for trespassing?" Connor asked.

"Well I haven't found any guidelines for how they might punish a minor for it," Rachel said. "An adult found guilty could end up in Azkaban for up to six months, or be given as little as a month of community service."

"Six months in Azkaban!" Quentin's eyes were as round as saucers.

"Yes," Rachel confirmed. "But that's for an adult. We would never be sent to prison. And if we're successful, and we end up actually catching Mrs. Tillman and preventing her from escaping, we may actually be _rewarded_. There was a reward for her capture twenty years ago."

"Or at least we may not get punished," Zack said practically.

"Maybe not punished by the Ministry," Ivy said. "But I reckon my parents won't be as forgiving."

"Nor mine," Quentin said.

"Look, guys," Connor said for what felt like the hundredth time. "You don't have to come with me! You'd all be better off staying here!"

"I'm going," Rachel said in a tone that brooked no argument.

"I am too," Quentin confirmed.

Ivy and Zack looked unsure, and the others didn't press the issue.

"Well coming or not," Connor said to them all. "You can all help me get ready. I still have to learn the binding spell so that I can tie her up, and I think that Rachel is right about trying to tackle the silencing spell, in case Mrs. Tillman starts shouting or whatever. We'll need time for you guys to get away after we catch her, and before any of the security wizards show up."

They spent the rest of the day fine-tuning the plan to get into the Ministry and find the clock room in time. By nightfall, Connor was sure that they had planned for every possible contingency, and he tried to calm his nerves by playing chess with Aiden just before bed. He was unsuccessful, as the other boy kept up a constant barrage of questions about what Connor and the others were planning, and what they had received from WWW. Still, when he finally retired for the night, he lay awake in his bed worrying, and hoping fervently for more dreams that might give him a better idea of what to expect at the Ministry.

However, his dreams did not cooperate that night, nor for any of the nights that followed. The next week was a busy and stressful one for all of them as they practiced spells, went over and over their plan obsessively, made copies of the map of the ministry, all on top of trying to keep up with their homework. They had also taken their new chameleon cloaks outside to test them for effectiveness, as a sort of trial run before they actually needed them. At least they had been pleased with them, and felt confident that they would actually come in handy. It had not escaped any of their notice, either, that Professor Lupin had taken to watching them speculatively, as if he could read their minds and knew what they were planning.

Finally, March thirty first arrived, a sunny, if somewhat windy, Tuesday. Aiden was driving Connor mad at lunchtime with demands to be let in on their secret. Ivy, fearing that Connor might actually use his newly acquired stunning skills, pulled Aiden into a seat with their group, and let gave him an 'assignment' to help them with their prank. Aiden grinned widely as he listened to her plan, and agreed to meet them all in the common room at seven o'clock the following morning. Connor had actually been impressed with Ivy's plan, and they had all quickly agreed that it was mischievous enough that others would believe that it was what they had been planning all along, but not so horrible that they might be severely punished for it if they were identified as the guilty culprits of the prank, somehow.

Connor was feeling particularly jittery, and had found it nearly impossible to eat a proper lunch. It wasn't until Defense Against the Dark Arts class that he forced himself to pull his head together. Professor Lupin had been watching him keenly all through another practical lesson on dueling, and finally snuck up behind him in class and murmured, "What are you and your friends up to, Connor?"

Connor had nearly jumped put of his skin, making the professor chuckle merrily. "Nothing!" he said too quickly, making Zack glare at him in warning.

"Really," Lupin drawled, not missing the subtle looks that Ivy and Quentin were sending at Connor, telling him to calm down and act normal. "So even though you lot have been huddled together in the library and out on the grounds and in the Great Hall for the past two weeks, whispering and poring over a certain map, you're not actually planning anything; say in honor of a certain upcoming holiday?"

"You mean Easter?" Connor asked weakly, knowing that he was a terrible liar when it came to his uncle.

Remus Lupin snorted inelegantly at Connor's response, and let the matter drop with a simple, "I guess I'll find out soon enough."

'_Poring over a certain map_,' the professor had said. He must have seen them looking at the map of the Ministry and assumed that it was the Marauder's Map! He was now more grateful than ever that Ivy had come up with a good plan for April Fools day, to throw everyone off the scent.

Finally, after dinner, Connor settled himself down at a table in the common room to do his History of Magic essay on the giant wars of the 1200s, and tried desperately to focus. He did not know how he was going to make it through his classes and Quidditch practice tomorrow without cracking, and wondered if he should eat some fever fudge around lunchtime for an excuse to skive off of his classes. With his luck, a raging fever would only draw unwanted attention from Professors Lupin or McGonagall, and he'd find himself with a bed in the hospital wing, with the matron hovering over him.

Knowing that he would not have the opportunity tomorrow to work on any homework, Connor mentally shook himself, and finished his essay, then pulled his Herbology book forward to get started on the assigned eight inches of parchment on the care of Venomous Blood-Pod plants.

"_I just hope I'm around to hand them in_," Connor thought pessimistically as he set to work.

It was past midnight when Connor finally dragged himself up to bed, hoping he would be able to sleep, nervous as he was. He lay down and closed his eyes, and it felt as though he had only been in bed for a few minutes before Zack was shaking him awake.

"Come on, Con," Zack was saying with a yawn. "It's almost time to meet the others."

Connor groaned into his pillow before rolling out of bed and sliding sleepily to the floor.

Ten minutes later, Connor, Zack and Quentin had joined Aiden and the girls in the common room. Aiden was pacing impatiently, and Ivy was carrying the large box that she'd had delivered from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. The common room was pretty much deserted, as most of the students who were awake this early were showering or getting ready for their day to begin. There was no one to witness their suspicious behavior, and so they clambered out of the portrait hole, and set off for the school kitchens.

"Okay," Ivy said when they reached the portrait of the bowl of fruit that guarded the entrance to the kitchens. "You all know what to do, right?"

Everyone nodded. Connor reached up and tickled the pear in the portrait, and it gave a squeaky little giggle before the frame of the picture separated from the wall to reveal the entrance to the cavernous kitchens. There were house elves everywhere, carrying crates full of eggs, long strings of sausage links, huge slabs of bacon, and all sorts of assorted foods that were to be prepared for the morning meal. The long tables that mirrored the ones above in the Great Hall already had some baskets of muffins and breads arranged on them, with charms to keep them warm until they were sent up to the students in an hour's time. There was a huge skillet full of eggs being scrambled, and cauldrons of bubbling porridge cooking over glowing embers in the long fireplace, and a general flurry of activity that made the children's arrival go unnoticed for long enough for Ivy to distribute four bags of pastries to Connor, Rachel, Quentin and Zack. She herself took a small bottle from her pocket and pulled the stopper out before turning to Aiden.

"All right, Aiden," Ivy grinned at him. "Do your thing!"

Aiden returned the grin and pulled a handful of strange round pellets from his robe pocket, then pointed his wand at them and muttered, "_Aquula_!" A trickle of water shot from the end of his wand and doused the pellets, and then Aiden immediately scattered them in a wide arc over the floor. It was instant pandemonium. Aiden watched with glee as the pellets rolled every which way and blossomed into full-grown, live chickens, which began to cluck and run about in alarm.

"The chickens!" Aiden yelled loudly, causing almost all of the House Elves to spin in fright and stare wildly at the scene before them. Aiden then proceeded to chase the nearest fat hen around as if trying to catch it, thus stirring the others to action.

Ivy nodded to the others, and Connor took his bag of pastries to the furthest table on the left, and, under the pretense of helping to round up the chickens, quickly and efficiently emptied the pastries into the baskets on the table, a few in each one. He looked around to see house elves scattering about in the melee, and noted that Quentin, Zack and Rachel were distributing their pastries at the other tables as well. While all of this was going on, Ivy managed to sidle up to the skillet full of cooking eggs and surreptitiously poured half of the contents of her little bottle inside, then stepped sideways and emptied the rest into the porridge.

Aiden was still causing as much of a distraction as he could; he had a chicken under one arm, and was chasing another while muttering loudly and brilliantly about Peeves and his stupid tricks. Connor quickly stuffed the empty pastry bag into his pocket and scooped up a chicken that happened to be running past him. Soon the children had gathered up all nine of the chickens and left the kitchen assuring the elves that Peeves had been the responsible party all along, and that they would return the chickens to the gamekeeper's coop right away.

They hurried up to the nearest door that led outside, and followed Aiden's example by tossing the birds unceremoniously out into the morning air. Connor was very happy to see his captive go, as it had been pecking viciously at his hands, and he asked, "Won't someone notice these things running around?"

"Nah," Aiden said with a laugh. "They'll turn to dust in about twenty minutes. _Poultry Pellets_ from my dad's shop! They're brilliant – no trace of them at all after thirty minutes once activated with just a bit of water."

"Well they certainly did the job," Rachel said approvingly. "Now we need to get back up to the tower so that we can go down to breakfast with everyone else."

The Great Hall was quite full by the time the pranksters arrived and took their seats. The effect of the pastries and the potion in the eggs had not yet become apparent, but it only took about a minute for the fun to start. A girl at the Hufflepuff table gave a loud shriek when her friend suddenly turned into a crow. This was followed shortly thereafter by a Ravenclaw boy turning into a lemur, and a Gryffindor girl becoming a large, shaggy Irish setter. In fact at least a dozen students, including Ivy, had suddenly transformed into some sort of animal, causing the others to laugh uproariously at them. The head table was full of concerned teachers who had leapt to their feet at the commotion, and it only took about eight other students transforming for them to identify the pastries as the cause of the changes. It didn't escape the staff's notice that no one at the Slytherin table had seemed to be affected by the hexed pastries, even though many of them had been eating pastry at the time. Soon everyone who had put a pastry on his or her plate had hastily put it back or dropped it in their haste to avoid becoming an animal.

Once the furor died down a bit, and the laughter began to fade, the students who had become animals began to change back into their previous forms with loud a '_pop_'. The Slytherin table, which had perhaps laughed the loudest was just now beginning to realize that theirs was the only table unaffected by the sudden plague, and began to look at each other speculatively. Ivy hid her grin behind her hand as she continued her meal. Breakfast continued on in relative normality, though a little louder than usual as everyone discussed the first of what was sure to be many practical jokes that day.

"Ivy," Rachel murmured as they began to collect their schoolbags and prepared to leave the Great Hall. "You did put that potion in the eggs, didn't you?"

"And in the porridge," Ivy agreed.

"But nothing's happened," Rachel said.

"Not yet," Ivy grinned. "I won't take effect for an hour or so after it's ingested. It's brilliant, because no one will connect it with breakfast right away."

"You do know that Quentin and Connor both ate the porridge, don't you?" Rachel asked with a grin.

"I know," Ivy smiled fondly. "They're really good sports; I almost hate to remind them that we have potions this morning, so when it hits, we'll still be in Snape's class."

Ivy didn't have to remind the boys about where they would be when the potion took effect, however, because Zack beat her to it. Connor and Quentin looked horrified, then simply shrugged and bravely entered the dungeons ten minutes later, trying to act for all the world as if they had no idea as to what was coming. It wasn't until Connor was skinning his Shrivelfig for a sleeping draught that he noticed a change in his skin color, but remained silent as his hands took on a distinctly purple hue. He could hear Ivy behind him, trying to stifle a giggle as she noticed that almost every student in the class was beginning to look very colorful indeed. A glance over to his right told Connor that Quentin was turning an unattractive shade of orange, and the Hufflepuff boy beside him was turning violently magenta.

In fact, there were only four students in the class who were _not_ turning various colors, and Snape seemed to realize what was happening about the same time that his own skin took on a sickly green tone.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded harshly, as students began to exclaim at their predicament and rub uselessly at their skin. But no one had an answer that they were willing to divulge. With a heavy and long-suffering sigh, Professor Snape said, "Well since this ailment does not appear to be causing any pain or discomfort, we will continue this lesson in _silence_. You will complete your potions, clean up your workspace, and bring a sample flask to me by five minutes to the hour. Your finished product, should you manage to brew it correctly, should be faintly orange, the consistency of honey, and completely odorless."

When Professor Snape said the words 'faintly orange', several people snickered, but quieted immediately under the professor's menacing glare. Connor bit his lip to hide his laughter, and carefully measured out the essence of lavender before adding to his cauldron. He needed to get this potion exactly right, because he was going to be keeping a sample of it himself for later that night. When it came time to fill a flask of potion for examination, Connor was pleased to find that his sleeping draught was exactly as Snape had said it should be, and surreptitiously filled another and slipped it, carefully and tightly corked, into the inner pocket of his robes.

The noise in the hallways was almost deafening as multi-colored students emerged from their classrooms and saw that they were not the only class afflicted. Connor and the others all headed up to the transfiguration classroom for their double lesson, and laughed along with everyone else when they spotted several of the professors looking like a rainbow had exploded over them, discussing how to put the situation to rights.

"In the pumpkin juice?" he heard one of the teachers saying quietly, and slowed his pace to hear what the other had to say.

"I didn't have any pumpkin juice," said Professor Flitwick, who looked cheerful enough, despite his peacock blue skin.

"All I had this morning was porridge." Professor Lyra, the Divination teacher, rubbed firmly at her arm, trying in vain to eradicate the reddish hue it had taken on. She looked like she was suffering from a rather bad sunburn.

"I didn't have any porridge," Professor McGonagall said with as much dignity as someone the color of a daffodil could. "But we must find a remedy to this. I have to be in Edinburgh this evening, and I can't very well arrive like this."

Professor Lupin approached the group with a jovial smile, hands in his pockets, looking completely normal. When questioned, he cheerfully informed the group that he had slept a bit late, and hadn't had time for breakfast. His eyes had strayed to Connor and his friends as he said this, and they quickly fled toward their next lesson.

By the end of their double Transfiguration period, the students had begun to worry aloud about how long they would look like they'd been painted, but Ivy calmly went about copying her homework assignment onto a piece of parchment. As they left the classroom and headed up to Gryffindor Tower, Quentin asked, "How long _does_ this stuff last?"

"Until nature takes its course," Ivy said cryptically.

It wasn't until they had nearly reached the Great Hall that a girl coming out of the toilet exclaimed, "I'm back to normal!"

"If you'll excuse me?" Quentin said upon hearing this. He made a straight line for the loo, and joined them a few minutes later at the lunch table, sans the orange that had clashed so horribly with his silvery blonde hair.

Connor finally realized what Ivy had meant, and excused himself as well. One or two people demanding to know how he had rid himself of the purple waylaid him, but he merely shrugged and said that it must have worn off. He rejoined his friends; just as Ivy was about take a bite of shepherd's pie.

"Wait!" Connor said, holding up a hand to halt her fork's progress to her mouth. He looked toward the head table to find that Professor Lupin was looking at him with a smile tugging at his lips. "Professor Lupin's not eating."

"So?" Zack said, biting into an apple from a bowl on the table.

"So he should be hungry if he missed breakfast," Connor said. "He could be up to something.

"Now you're just being paranoid," Ivy said, but she put her fork down for a moment.

"You don't know Uncle Remus like I do," Connor said suspiciously. "He once snuck in and put makeup on my dad while he was sleeping and let him go to a Quidditch match still wearing it."

Zack and Quentin laughed loudly at this, and Rachel smiled at the memory of her Uncle Harry's shouts when he'd realized it. Ivy stomach growled loudly, however, and finally she just shrugged and said, "If he did do something to the food, how bad could it be? He wouldn't do anything that could actually hurt us, right?"

"I'm not risking it," Connor said firmly, and chose an orange from the bowl of fruit, examining closely before peeling it.

The funny thing was, many of the students were behaving in a similar manner, sniffing their food and examining everything on the table closely before daring to eat. Though still hungry, Connor refused any of the prepared foods, and went to charms class wondering if he could sneak down to the kitchens for something un-tainted later.

Their earlier prank had been a successful one in more than one way. Connor had already made it through a good part of the day without feeling overly anxious about their upcoming escapade. It wasn't until he was sitting in History of Magic class that the butterflies in his stomach returned full force. It didn't help matters at all when a piece of wadded up parchment landed on his desk with a note on it from Ivy. "_Zack and I are in_." Connor looked up at them, and they nodded back. They were really going to do this.

After class, Connor, Quentin and Ivy headed down to the Quidditch pitch for practice, but their rhythm was way off. Mariah kept glaring at them, and even shouted once when Quentin missed an easy goal through an unguarded hoop. At the end of practice, she warned them that if they had another practice as abysmal as this, they might just be shunted the reserve team to make way for players who could focus. Duly chastised, the boys promised to do better next time, silently added to themselves, '_if there is a next time_.'

Though hungry at dinnertime, Connor found that he was too nervous, and too suspicious Professor Lupin was not eating again to be able to eat much. He risked a plain dinner roll and some more of the fruit, but didn't trust Ivy's insistence that nothing had happened to her after eating lunch, and that they were probably safe. Most of the other students were back to their normal colors, and were daring to eat their evening meal, but a glance at the innocent look that Professor Lupin was sending him was enough to keep him wary. He knew that Professor Lupin was probably just winding him up a bit to make him paranoid, but Connor's stomach was warning him not to eat too much, as it was feeling decidedly weak at the thought of what they would all be doing in just a few hours.

After dinner, the five of them claimed a table in the common room and set about doing their homework assignments. O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students seemed to have realized that, it being April first, their end of year examinations were very close now, and the room was packed with students who glared menacingly at those who were not studying or anyone making noise. As the clock crept toward ten, there was still a larger number of students than normal still studying, and they began to wonder if they would need to use their dung bombs to clear the room out if everyone didn't begin to turn in for the night.

Much to their relief, Andrew decided to go to bed at half past ten, and all of his friends went as well, thinning the crowd at bit. It seemed that seeing a group of eight students retiring for the night made the other students realize that it was getting late, and more began to pack up their things and slip up their staircases for bed. Fifteen minutes later, Connor and Zack excused themselves and went up to their dormitory, where Andrew was just getting settled for the night. Connor bid the other boy good night as casually as he could, and made a show of getting a drink of water from the pitcher that was always kept in their room. While doing so, he dumped the flask of sleeping draught he had made that morning in potions into the remaining water of the pitcher. He grabbed his toiletry bag from his cabinet and left the room, leaving Zack to do his part.

When Connor returned from brushing his teeth, Andrew could be seen sprawled across his bed, snoring slightly. "It worked then?" he asked Zack, who was watching the other boy sleep with a grin.

"Perfectly," Zack confirmed. "That little thirst charm had him all but tripping over his own two feet to get a drink. He must have drunk half the pitcher before he stumbled over to his bed and crashed out."

"Good," Connor said, feeling slightly guilty. "One less obstacle, then. Snape told up that the sleeping draught should keep him knocked out for at least eight hours, by which time we'll have been long gone – hopefully we'll even be back by then."

Zack nodded, and the boys headed back down the steps toward the common room. As Connor reached the bottom of the steps, Aiden pulled him aside and said quietly, "Listen Connor, I, er, I lost my beater's bat. You know the one my dad gave to me that used to be his? Do you think you could try to '_see_' where it might have gone?"

At the stricken look on Connor's face, Aiden laughed and said, "April Fool, Con!" He punched him lightly in the arm and said, "Don't think much of me, do you?"

Aiden walked away chuckling at his final April Fool joke of the evening, and climbed the stairs to the boy's dormitories. He didn't notice that Connor still looked disconcerted, but Connor's mind was reeling. In his dream, it had been Quentin that had said such similar words to him, right down to the punch in the arm; what did it mean that it was Aiden who had actually done it? Granted, he had told the others about how he had known that April first was the date that everything would start to happen, so Quentin was hardly going to bother trying to prank him now, but...it was still unnerving.

"Hey Connor," Zack called to him. "Looks like we won't have to break out the dung bombs after all." He gestured to the now empty common room. "Everyone gone to bed, and its just barley eleven."

"You know it might not hurt to set off a few anyway," Connor said, "To make sure no one comes back down."

"I don't want to sit down here in that stench for a half an hour," Rachel complained.

"I think Connor just likes that smell," Zack teased. "Reminds him of his sweaty Quidditch uniform after practices."

"Oi!" Connor complained, jumping up to grab the taller boy in a playful headlock and ruffling his hair violently.

Zack returned the favor by wrestling Connor to the ground where they started the beginning of a good wrestling match before Rachel intervened.

"Cut it out you two!" Rachel scolded.

"I'm still worried about breaking into Lupin's office to use his fire," Ivy said nervously. "How can we be sure it'll take us to the Ministry of Magic?"

"I told you," Connor said, feeling an immense relief at the déjà vu washing over him. The details of his dream were beginning to right themselves, despite the change in who had pranked him. "Lupin's fire is connected to the Floo so that he can get home to the Shrieking Shack every night."

"I'm not sure..." Ivy said.

"Look," Zack interrupted. "Connor has already said that he's going no matter what. I'm not letting him go alone."

"Besides, he's been having dreams for months that we're all there with him, so that means that we do actually get there." Quentin pointed out.

"Yes," Ivy said, "But we still need to be really, really careful!"

"Ivy's right," Rachel said. "Let's make sure we all have everything we're going to need. We won't be able to come back for anything we forget!"

They all made certain that their chameleon cloaks were folded up in their pockets, and that they all had their maps to the Ministry. Zack made certain that the extra items he thought might come in handy were stowed away, and Connor made sure that he had some of the Weasley's Wizarding Whiz Bangs, and his drawing of the round room pocketed. They all made sure that they were each wearing a watch, and that they all read the right time.

They were all beginning to feel anxious now that the time to put their plan into action was fast arriving. Connor had pulled out the Marauder's Map and given it to Quentin, who was monitoring the corridors and Lupin's office. The professor was in his office unusually late tonight, and they had been worried about it until Rachel pointed out that Connor had already 'seen' that he would leave in time, but they were still feeling edgy.

"It's nearly 11:30!" Rachel whispered urgently. "If we want to get there by 2:58, we need to hurry; we have no idea how long it's going to take to find the right room."  
  
Connor was just about to reply, when Quentin looked up from the map and announced, "He's gone! Let's go!"  
  
"What was Lupin doing here so late anyway?" Ivy asked as they all stood from the table where they had been sitting in a shadowy corner of the Gryffindor Common Room.  
  
"Maybe he suspects something," Zack said.  
  
"How could he?" Connor asked, heading for the portrait hole. Things were happening very much along the lines of his dreams, except for a few minor alterations, and now that they had given Andrew a sleeping draught, the way ahead should be clear.  
  
"I hope you're right about this," Rachel said nervously. Connor held up a piece of paper that had a drawing on it that looked like a wagon wheel before stuffing it in his pocket and said, "I've got the directions right here. Now let's go!"  
  
"Go where?"  
  
Everyone gasped in surprise and shock as Victoria Weasley stepped out f the shadowy stairwell from the girl's dormitory and confronted them. Connor looked around at the others wildly, but it was Rachel that took matters into her own hands.

"Tori," she said with a shaky voice. "I'm really sorry about this. _Petrificus Totalus_!"

Victoria looked stunned an instant before her arms and legs snapped together and her body went rigid. Quentin and Zack hurried to catch her before she fell to the floor, and carried her over to the couch by the fire. Rachel looked upset, and leaned over her cousin and whispered, "I swear I'll explain everything later and you can hex me into next week, but for now we're running out of time. Try to sleep until we can come back and unjinx you."

She spun around and motioned to the others to follow. Ivy stood staring for a moment at the petrified red head, thinking this was eerily similar to the tale her father had told her about when he had caught Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley trying to sneak out of the Gryffindor common room when he was a first year. Hermione had been the one to put her father in the full-body bind back then, and now her daughter was doing the same thing to a fellow Gryffindor so that they could sneak out to do something dangerous. Somehow Ivy doubted that this was going to end with her earning Gryffindor points as it had when her fathers has been in school.

"Ivy, let's go!" Rachel beckoned from the portrait hole. With a swish of her long blonde ponytail, she turned away from Victoria, and followed the others out. None of them noticed a figure in the portrait of the first Gryffindor Quidditch team that was hanging against the far wall disappear from the frame.

The Corridors were deserted, and with the help of the Marauder's Map, they made their stealthy way toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts office. The door gave way with a simple unlocking spell, and they crept inside. Rachel pulled a jar from her pocket that was full of Floo powder and offered it to Connor. "See you in a minute," she said. "Good luck."

Connor took a generous pinch of the powder, and stepped into the large, empty grate. He threw down the powder and called out, "Ministry of Magic, Atrium!"

The flames rose up green to engulf him, but died down almost immediately, dissipating to nothing. It hadn't worked.

"Oh _no_!" Rachel said with wide eyes. Professor Lupin's Floo was blocked.


	35. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

_The secret of health for both mind and body is not to mourn for the past, worry about the future, or anticipate troubles but to live in the present moment wisely and earnestly." –Buddah_

Connor stood frozen inside the grate for a few moments before swearing quite badly and stepping out. "Now what do we do?" He asked of no one in particular.

"Why isn't it working?" Ivy said in a frightened voice. "You saw in your dream that we..."

"I saw that we were planning on using Lupin's Floo. I never actually saw us using it." Connor said uncomfortably

"Well you dreamed that we were there, Connor, so there has to be a way." Rachel said calmly, trying to keep cool. "Where else has a Floo?"

"McGonagall's office."

They all turned to look at Zack, who had been the one to make the suggestion.

"McGonagall?" Quentin asked incredulously. "Are you insane?"

"No," Zack said seriously. "Listen. McGonagall isn't in the castle; she's gone to Edinburgh for the rest of the week. No one will be there."

All eyes turned back to Connor, who set his jaw and nodded. "Let's go."

They pulled out the Marauder's Map and set off through the DADA classroom and out into the corridor. In their haste, none of the kids noticed a familiar Gryffindor beater sneaking out of the painting of a busy Hogsmeade street where he had been hiding.

The trek to the Headmistress's office was a harrowing one. They only just avoided Peeves by ducking into the abandoned House Elf corridor, and had to duck into a deserted classroom to avoid a patrolling prefect on the way. They were sweaty and out of breath as they finally approached the gargoyle that protected Professor McGonagall's office, and Connor panted, "Animagus!"

Nothing.

"Animagus!" He stated more forcefully.

Nothing.

"Damn!" He swore, kicking the plinth on which the gargoyle perched. "She's changed it, and I don't know the..."

"Veritaserum," Zack said helpfully.

To their amazement, the gargoyle leapt aside and lent them access to the staircase that was now spiraling upward.

"How did you know that?" Connor asked, astounded.

"While you, Ivy and Quint were all at Quidditch, I came this way to leave a note for McGonagall to tell her how to get rid of the yellow coloring before she had to leave," he shrugged. "I felt a bit guilty because she said she was going to Edinburgh, and couldn't show up there that way, so I was going to let her know, since she was still yellow at lunch-time. I heard her telling the new password to Professor Snape, in case he needed to get in while she was gone."

"I could kiss you!" Connor said. "You're brilliant!"

"Let's just skip that part and get going," Zack said. "It's already a quarter to one."

"Right," Connor agreed. They all scurried up the steps, which had already reached the top, and stopped revolving. The large door with the griffin knocker wasn't even locked, and they breathed a collective sigh of relief when it swung open easily when pushed.

The headmistress's office was dark, with the only light being a bluish glow from the waxing moon washing in through the windows. The dozens of portraits hanging around the room were mostly in shadow, though they came into better focus as their eyes adjusted to the dim light. The subjects of the paintings were all sleeping; their heads lolling to the side, their eyes closed. These were mostly portraits of the previous headmasters of Hogwarts, though there were a few others scattered about in the mix. There was an extremely odd one of a man standing at a tall counter with a lunascope in front of him. Beside him was another sleeping man, a Quidditch player, leaning against a broomstick and snoring slightly, apparently too tired to return to his own painting for the night. They tip toed through the room, though Ivy got a bit of a fright when she walked into an empty owl perch. The atmosphere in the room seemed almost oppressive, but they all thought that it probably had something to do with the fact that they were seriously out of bounds by being here, and scared of being caught.

"Okay," Connor whispered. "This has got to work, or I'm out of ideas. You know the plan. I'm going to go through and start the diversion. I'll back in a minute. If I'm _not_, get yourselves back to Gryffindor Tower, and un-jinx Victoria and tell her you were helping me 'save' one of the house elves or something. Then pretend like you don't know anything about where I went."

They all swallowed hard and nodded, and Rachel held out the jar of Floo powder to him once more, plus a tiny envelope, which he pocketed. Connor stepped into the cold grate and took a pinch, and threw it down, calling out as quietly as he could, "Ministry of Magic, Atrium!"

The others all sighed in relief when the flames rose around him, and he spun out of sight.

Connor tucked his elbows in tightly and held his breath as he traveled. His eyes were screwed shut, and he didn't open them until he felt himself beginning to slow down. When he came to a stop, he threw his weight backwards as much as possible, and yanked the Weasley's Wildfire Whiz Bangs from one pocket, while drawing his wand with the other. He muttered, "Aquula!" and doused the wet-start fireworks with a stream from his wand, then pitched them out toward the Peacock-blue ceiling of the Ministry Atrium. The commotion began at once, sending colored lights whirling a whizzing around in the air, and traveling all over the Atrium with _whirs_ and _bangs _and _wheeeees_.

Connor quickly withdrew the tiny envelope from his robes and dumped the contents (more Floo powder) at his feet, calling out, "Hogwarts, headmistress's office!"

The flames rose up to engulf him, and then died down again. Nothing had happened. This was not turning out to be his lucky night.

Connor began to panic, but forced himself to think, and to remember the contingency plan. He quickly whipped the Chameleon Cloak from his pocket and shook it open. He draped it over himself and stood as still as he possibly could while the sound of running footsteps and shouting grew closer.

It had been five minutes since Connor had disappeared from sight, and Rachel, Ivy, Quentin and Zack were in a state of panic.

"Why hasn't he come back?" Ivy moaned desperately.

"I don't know," Rachel fretted. "Maybe he got caught. Should we go back to the common room and wait?"

"I'm not going back without Connor," Quentin said firmly. "The rest of you can stay here, but I'm going ahead with the plan. If we can get Samantha Tillman, then we can try to use that to our advantage somehow, and say that Connor was the one who figured out that she was sneaking in, and maybe..."

"I'm going to go too," Zack said with resolve.

"Then let's go," Ivy agreed, her voice perhaps not as strong as the boys' but no less determined.

"Right then," Rachel said. "I'll come through last. You know what to do when you get there. Let's just hope that Connor had time to set up the distraction."

"Hey you there!" A booming voice sounded from somewhere inside the shadowy office. "What are you lot doing here?"

All of them jumped with fright and whirled around, looking for the source of the voice. At first, they had believed that someone had noticed that the gargoyle protecting the office was down, and had come to investigate, but that was not the case. Their eyes scanned the portraits through the darkness and discovered that the one who had shouted was a venerable looking wizard in robes of Ravenclaw colors. Apparently they had made enough noise to awaken the portrait. "I asked you a question!" He said in a commanding voice, hand on hips and eyeing them beadily.

All around them, the subjects of the painting were becoming alert and expressing their surprise or disapproval at the intruders. The noise was becoming deafening, and Rachel finally mastered herself enough to shout, "Go! Go! Zack, you first!"

Zack didn't need to be told twice; with the racket going on around them, there was no way a prefect, teacher or ghost wouldn't hear it and come to investigate. He stepped forward and grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and shouted quickly above the din, "Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Games and Sports!"

No sooner had he spun out of sight, than Ivy stepped into the fireplace and repeated the location that Zack had just given.

"You students aren't allowed to leave school grounds at this time of night!" shouted a witch from a portrait close to the door.

"Strictly forbidden!" Another witch shrieked.

Quentin grabbed some Floo powder and told Rachel, "Don't wait. Come straight away."

She nodded, and watched him go. Carefully, she took a pinch of the powder herself, and the replaced the lid of the jar one-handed and slipped it into her pocket. She didn't notice the Quidditch player that had been following them slip out of the picture in which he was standing as she threw down the powder and spun out of sight.

Connor was trying desperately to get his breathing under control as Wizards in robes as blue as the ceiling rushed past his hiding place without sparing him a glance. They were trying in vain to get rid of the fireworks, which now filled the atrium, but everything they tried simply made matters worse by causing the bright lights to multiply or else combine together into even larger spectacles of color and sound. Connor noted that some wizards and witches in other colored robes had joined an attempt to help, and sighed in satisfaction. Their appearance meant that any late night workers had abandoned their offices to come to the atrium.

Praying that the others had realized his predicament and returned to Gryffindor Tower to avoid trouble, he carefully and slowly used the chaos to his advantage, and moved out of the grate, keeping his back to the wall as he crept slowly to the far end of the Atrium. He froze any time a witch or wizard got anywhere near him, painfully aware that he was not really invisible if someone were to spot movement in his direction. Still, they were too busy with _evanasco_ and _stupefy_ and any other spell that might possibly help, including doing such things as waving their hats at the offending sparks, or trying to smother them with their cloaks. It was an agonizing ten minutes of slow moving before he managed to get to the door he needed without being spotted or detected in any way. Making sure that everyone's attention was diverted elsewhere, he slipped through the door that had been on the map of the Ministry that he had been studying for the past two weeks. He let out a shaky laugh when he found he was in the stairwell that he had seen and memorized from the Ministry map, and only had to think for a moment before he began to climb the stairs up to the seventh floor, which was the home of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. The original plan had been to exit the Floo there, and then to wait for five to ten minutes to make sure that everything was clear before proceeding. He intended to stick with the plan, even if he was doing this solo now.

He and the others had chosen the Department of Magical Games and Sports office to Floo into because it was the floor closest to the Atrium, and was most likely to empty at this time of the night. They would have made any further moves from there, depending on what they found when they arrived. A glance at his watch told him that it was a quarter past one. The plan would have had them in the stairwell just below the ninth floor by now, waiting for an opportunity to slip past the guard and into the Department of Mysteries. He wondered if he should just turn and go there, so that he'd be on the time schedule they'd worked out, when he heard a noise up ahead. He stopped and backed slowly against the wall, when he distinctly heard voices coming in his direction, though he didn't see anyone approaching. There was movement in the darkness all around him from the posters depicting various Quidditch teams hung about the walls, but no sign of real life at all.

"I'm telling you, it's this way!" came a disembodied, whispering voice from just ahead.

He knew that voice. Rachel. It was unbelievable! And if she was whispering out directions, it meant that the others were here as well. Connor's heart gave a jolt as he realized that his friends had completely disregarded his order to return to Gryffindor tower if he did not return in good time. He whipped his chameleon cloak from around his face and hissed, "What are you all doing here?"

Ivy gave a quickly muffled scream, and Connor winced.

"Connor!" Quentin whipped his cloak down as well. "What happened? Why didn't you come back?"

Rachel, Zack and Ivy's heads were soon revealed as well, and Connor thought that anyone happening in at the moment would get the fright of their lives, seeing five heads seeming to float in mid-air.

"Apparently you can't Floo from the Atrium into the Headmistress's office," Connor said, feeling foolish that they had all overlooked the fact that the Hogwarts Floo was very picky about who could Floo into it. "I didn't have any Floo powder to try for Lupin's office, but I doubt it would have worked anyway." He didn't point out that this meant that they were in much worse trouble than they thought, seeing as how they wouldn't be able to get back to Hogwarts via the Floo, according to plan. The best they might hope for at this point would be to Floo into the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, or possibly the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes location there. Either way, they were sure to be noticed, questions would be asked.

"Did you get the distraction started?" Rachel asked anxiously.

"Yes," Connor said. "They should be busy for a while."

He explained how he had escaped the Atrium, and they told him about how they had planned to find Mrs. Tillman without him. Finally they all decided to press the advantage of having the distraction still going, and head for the stairwell so that they could get to the steps that led to level ten, before the distraction was taken care of and it occurred to anyone that the perpetrators involved might still be about. From there, they would be able to survey the situation on the ninth floor and still have a relatively safe hiding place.

They re-covered themselves with the cloaks, and kept close to the walls until they managed to slip into the stairwell. They paused on the landing to listen for any signs of life, and luckily heard nothing, so they hurried as quickly as they dared down from the seventh floor, past the eighth floor where the Atrium was located. They could still hear a lot of noise going on beyond that door as the fireworks eluded all efforts to extinguish them. At the ninth floor, they came to an open corridor that they would have to cross to get to the staircase for the tenth floor courtroom.

The stairwell itself was a bit of a problem to navigate. Being underground, it was very cold here, and slightly dank. The stairs were made of stone, and echoed with every movement they made, so that they had to be very careful about how they put their feet down. They also had to control their rapid breathing in case they were to alert someone below. All of them were feeling horribly exposed on the stairs, as there would be no way to hide their presence if someone were to come up or down. The cloaks they wore would only conceal them to a point, and they certainly wouldn't be hidden from anyone at very close range. It had taken them at least a quarter of an hour to make their way down to level nine without noise, and now they waited to see if it was clear to cross the corridor to the next set of steps.

Connor peered around the corner as cautiously as he could, reminding himself, yet again, that the Chameleon Cloak would not render him completely invisible, and that anyone looking in his direction would be able to detect movement. There was a long corridor before him, and a set of doors to the lift. This was as low as the lift would go, leaving the tenth floor courtroom accessible only by stairs. It was one of the reasons they had chosen to use those stairs to wait for their opportunity; no one was likely to sneak up on them from behind at this time of night. Opposite the lift doors, there was a single door with a tall desk-like table to the left of it, with a tall chair that looked to be a security station of some kind. Presently, there was no one manning the desk, and that made Connor nervous. Was the guard up in the Atrium, trying to help with the fireworks? Was he in the loo, or just on break? Maybe he was inside the Department of Mysteries on patrol? Wherever he was, he wasn't at the desk, which meant that they could move across to the other staircase. Connor had just turned back to tell his friends that they should quickly and quietly move to the next set of stairs, when a door below them opened, and a security wizard in peacock blue robes climbed up the set of steps that they had almost just snuck into.

Connor heard a faint squeak, and couldn't be sure if it was one of his friends, or simply the shoes of the guard climbing toward level nine. Whatever the case, the guard apparently didn't notice it, and kept climbing. Connor froze where he stood; hating that he had no way of knowing if they were about to be caught. Should he just stun the man now, or wait to see what was going to happen? Connor was still deciding when the man reached the corridor and turned, apparently returning to his post at the tall desk by the entrance to the Department of Mysteries. They could hear the scrape of his chair being pulled back, and the grunt and sigh of the man as he settled himself down at the desk. They could hear the crinkling of paper, and then a soft _click._ A moment later, soft music floated over the air, sounding tinny and faint to Connor's ears, but making him smile as he let out a shaky breath. With a wireless playing near him, the guard was less likely to hear any accidental noises that they made.

Connor carefully extracted a hand from his cloak so that the others would be able to see it, and he motioned to let them know that he was going to cross the corridor to the other stairs first. He motioned for them to stay put. Drawing his hand back in, and making sure he was covered, he ever-so-slowly eased against the far wall, and took a slow, tentative step out into the open, facing the guard. He was relieved to see that the man was holding a newspaper up in front of his face, and dared to move slightly more quickly across, half afraid that the thumping of his heart was going to give him away. He made it to the other set of stairs, and turned around when he was sure he was out of sight of the guard, but could still see the place where he knew his friends were waiting. He lowered the hood of the cloak, and freed his hands, trying not to let the cloak make any sound as he did so. He waved his hands and motioned for one of them to follow him across, and soon saw a hand (he thought it was Zack's) appear in the air in a thumbs-up gesture before disappearing again. It seemed like an eternity before he felt a body pass him, and he gestured for the next person to come.

He looked over his shoulder and saw that it had been Zack who had just passed him, his face visible in the folds of his partially drawn hood. A few minutes later, Ivy joined them, and then Rachel, and then Quentin. Connor looked at his wristwatch and was surprised to see that it was already twenty minutes past two! They would have to speed things up; they had to be there by 2:54, to cover the fact that his dreams had shown him both that time and 2:58. He didn't want to take any chances of being to late. That left them with just over a half an hour to find the clock room and catch Samantha Tillman! He didn't know how it was possible, but his heart rate picked up and fresh sweat beaded on his forehead.

The panic must have shown on his face, because Rachel put a hand on his arm and gave his a quizzical look. In answer, he held up his watch for her to see, and she blanched. Connor pulled out his wand, and gestured to himself, then to the corridor above them, mouthing the word, 'stupefy'. Rachel looked terrified, but when he pointed at his watch again, she nodded. He turned to the others to make sure they were prepared, and saw that they looked as scared as he felt, but were ready to follow his lead.

'One,' he mouthed to them, gripping his wand tightly and holding up the index finger of his left hand to tick off the numbers. 'Two," he mouthed silently, holding up a second finger. He was just about to move on to three, at which point he would step out and attempt to stun the guard, when a bell sounded with a sharp _ding_! They all jumped, and Ivy had her own hand clapped over her mouth, the other pressed against her heart. Zack looked as though he'd like to be sick, and Quentin's face was far too pale. Rachel had grabbed his arm as soon as they had heard the bell from the lift, to prevent him for stepping out into the open. They could hear what could only be the doors of the lift opening up, and they hurriedly covered themselves completely with their cloaks.

"Hey Lawrence," came a voice from the corridor. "Your kids buy stuff from that Weasley joke shop all the time don't they?"

"I swear half of my paycheck disappears into that shop," the other voice said jovially. "Why?"

"Some idiot set off some fireworks in the Atrium, and now the whole place is full of the things. We think there must have been some in a dustbin, and that they got wet somehow. Everything we try to do just makes 'em multiply. You know how to get rid of 'em?" the first voice explained.

Connor was glad that the distraction was still working so nicely.

"I can try," Lawrence the guard said with a chuckle. "Come on."

"Can you leave right now?" the first man asked in concern.

"Oh yes," Lawrence said easily. "The place is empty tonight. Jamison was going to come in and work, but his wife and son got sick, so he sent an owl saying that he wasn't coming. No one else is scheduled to be here until five."

"Let's go, then," the first man said. "It's chaos up there."

There was the sound of the chair scraping across the floor again, and footsteps, then the lift's doors slid shut with a clatter. Connor carefully peered around the corner and let out the breath he'd been holding.

"He's gone!" he whispered to the others, pulling his hood down once more. "Let's go before he comes back!"

They all lowered their hoods and quickly ran to the door by the desk. Connor looked at the top of the desk and found a key, and used it quickly on the lock. He couldn't believe his luck when the door gave way, and they all hurried inside, replacing the key on the desk and closing the door firmly behind them. Connor removed his Chameleon cloak and whispered, "That man said the place was empty, and it will be easier if we can see each other."

The others shed their cloaks and folded them up into their pockets as well. They were in a long corridor, and there was a door at the end that Connor knew without a doubt would lead to the strange round room with all of the doors.

"Are we going the right way?" Ivy asked him nervously. She was very close to his left shoulder, and they were now walking quickly.

Connor recognized this from his dreams, and so he answered, "I think so. That round room should be right up ahead, just past that door."

"This is it, then," Rachel said to his right, looking anxiously over her shoulder. "Everything should be over soon."

"Let's get it done, then," Connor said. They had reached the door, and he pushed it open, striding inside with the others on his heels.


	36. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

_"The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live." – Flora Whittemore_

Connor had barely stepped into the room (which was indeed round) and shut the door, when the torches that had been the source of the blue light extinguished themselves, just as they had in his dream. The darkness was absolute, except for the lines of light leaking through the cracks in the many doors that lined the walls of the strange round room. The walls began to spin, making the lines around the doors blur and they went fast enough to make him feel queasy. Even though he had been prepared for this, it was still strange and unnerving. He fumbled in his robes for his wand, and just as he found it, the walls had slowed to a stop. He whispered 'Lumos,' relieved by the light the tip of his wand produced, and studied the many doors around him.

"Damn! I didn't think to mark the exit door before the walls started moving," he said.

The sense that time was running out was causing extreme tension to build inside of him, and he paused to try to think clearly. They had planned for this, hadn't they? All he had to do was _think_.

He turned in a circle to see the whole room, and found that Quint, Ivy, Rachel and Zack were all looking excited and apprehensive. It was truly amazing that they had made it this far without being apprehended, and they were beginning to believe that they could actually pull this off without getting into serious trouble.  
  
"What do we do now?" Zack asked him as the torches sprang to life again and washed them all with blue light, giving them all the eerie feeling almost of being underwater.  
  
"I think we should start trying doors," Rachel said

"Which door?" he asked himself, not really expecting an answer. This was all too familiar to him. He had seen this many times in his sleep, and it was oddly comforting to know what was going to be said and done next. It was kind of like following a script that he had rehearsed for, was afraid to deviate from for fear of upsetting the balance of things.

"It's your vision, mate," Quentin said, his wand at the ready, and his nervous voice betraying his calm outer demeanor.

"Look, there are five of us," Rachel said logically. "We should just each pick a door and see what's on the other side. There are only a dozen; it shouldn't take long to find the one that Connor told us about, assuming that one of these doors leads directly into that room."

"And if none of them does?" Zack asked, tentatively approaching a door, but not sure how to attempt to open it, as there was no handle.

"Let's worry about that if we come to that problem," Connor said impatiently. "We don't have much time!"  
  
He strode forward and placed his hand on the door directly in front of him, intending to push it open, but Zack said, "Wait!"

"What is it?" Connor asked impatiently. They only had minutes before Samantha Tillman was going to appear.

"This," Zack said, and then pulled a Magic Marker from his pocket, and waved it triumphantly in front of him. He used his teeth to pull off the cap, and then quickly drew a star on the door that Connor had chosen. "Go ahead now."

Connor pushed, and the door swung open to reveal a lot of desks and a large tank in the center of the room. There was something moving inside the murk, fluid-filled tank, but Connor wasn't interested in that; this clearly wasn't the room he needed. Ivy had tried to push a door open on the opposite side just after Connor opened his door, but it seemed that the room would only allow one door to be opened at a time. Connor pulled the door shut, and the lights went out again plunging them into darkness, but for Connor's wandlight.

The walls were spinning again, the blue light a blurred streak in front of his eyes. Connor finally closed them when his stomach began to churn, and didn't open them again until he heard them come to a halt. He felt slightly dizzy by that time, and needed a moment to get oriented. Zack didn't seem to need any such concession, though, and strode to the door nearest to him, drew a star on it with the marker, and pushed it open. Connor passed Zack and stepped through the door to look around. The rest of them peered into the room over his shoulder to see what was revealed beyond. It was a large stone room that looked like an amphitheatre with benches all around, sinking gradually lower in steps. At the bottom, there was what appeared to be a one-man stage, a sort of dais, with a tattered curtain hanging from an arch. The whole room was eerily quiet and still, and made Connor want to beat a hasty retreat.

"Not this one," Connor said, feeling uneasy, and stepped back into the round room with the others as quickly as he could, while trying not to show how panicked he really felt. "We're running out of time!"

Zack pulled the door shut, and they waited for the spinning to resolve itself once more. As the torches came to life again, Connor looked at his watch, and saw that it was 2:49. Less than ten minutes to go until Samantha Tillman was supposed to appear.

"Which one now?" Quentin asked.

"That one," Connor said, pointing to the next in line. He waited while Zack placed the star on the door, and then he pushed it open. Wrong one again. This door would not budge at all; no matter how hard they pushed on it, or how many unlocking charms they tried. They finally abandoned that particular door, making sure to mark it with an 'x' to show that they had already tried that one. The next door was no help either; Connor didn't care about a room full of strange artifacts, he needed to find the clock room! He pulled the door shut forcefully and the walls began their rotating. This time, Connor simply took the marker from Zack's hand, scribbled a shape that roughly resembled at star, and pushed the door open.

Yes.

Connor pushed the door open and peered into the room, and knew at once that they had found it. The ticking of the clocks was strangely soothing to him as he stepped out into the dimly lit room. He only vaguely heard Ivy, Rachel and Quentin say, "Lumos!" before the light from their wands illuminated everything, casting strange shadows. Connor put out the light in his own wand, though he couldn't take his eyes off the strange room that they were standing in. There were clocks and hourglasses of all shapes and sizes on every available surface. There were glass-fronted cabinets full of the tiniest clocks that any of them had ever seen, and hourglasses of nearly the same size in another. The sound of the gentle ticking was eerie as it echoed around the large room in an endless, an uncoordinated symphony of sound; it was almost as if the room was whispering to them in an ancient, unknown language_. Ticktockticktockticktockticktock...._

"What do you think this place _really_ is?" Ivy asked. She was standing very close to Connor's shoulder, holding her wand high.

"I don't know," Connor said. He had given the matter a great deal of thought since the first time he had dreamed of it, and the only answer that had ever seemed right to him, was that they must be working on something to do with the properties of time. "Maybe it's a research place. Maybe they study time; where it goes once it passes and stuff."

"We made it in time," Rachel observed, gesturing to a wall covered in too many types of clocks to count. All of them read 2:53. "Only just."

"In my dream, she appears right over here," Connor said, striding to the spot and pointing at it as if an "X" might suddenly show itself to mark the spot. "Is everyone ready?"

They all nodded, and pulled out their wands. Connor took a few steps backward, to be sure that the woman didn't land on top of him when she arrived.

"Someone's coming from out there!" Quentin hissed, pointing back toward where they had just been, terror written on his face.

Almost as soon as he had said this, the door they had just come through closed of its own accord and the sound of the room spinning inside could be faintly heard. '_Not now_!' Connor moaned in his mind. He could hear voices from inside the round room - lots of them. There was no doubt that the guards had discovered that someone was here that shouldn't be.

"Connor!" Ivy's excited voice had him turning back to see a woman appear out of thin air into the middle of the room, just at the point that Connor had been standing before. She as wearing deep blue robes, and had light brown hair that was piled haphazardly atop her head. She seemed startled to see them all looking at her, just as Connor had foreseen.

Connor had planned this out and practiced it so many times in his mind that he didn't even pause. He raised his wand and shouted, "_Expelliarmus_!" forcing whatever it was she had used to transport herself, out of her hands and flying into the air. He stepped deftly out of the way as soon as the item hit the ground, and Rachel stunned the woman. Zack stepped forward quickly and half-shouted, "_vincio_!" And ropes shot from his wand that bound the stunned woman where she lay. He had been the only one of them who had been able to manage the spell properly when they had practiced, and Connor thought wildly that now that Zack had done his job, maybe the others might be able to hide somehow before they were found. Maybe if they backed against a wall and covered themselves with the _Chameleon Cloaks, _Connor could allow himself to be caught and taken away, giving his friends time to....

That hope was dashed as soon as it formed in his head, though, when the door crashed open, and several men in peacock blue robes rushed in and surrounded them. The room flooded with light, and Connor only had a moment to realize that all of these men had wands pointed at him and his friends. A moment after that, it suddenly registered that Professor Lupin, his father, mother and Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione were all there as well. His Aunt Hermione was screaming, "No! They're only children!"

That distraction was all it took. Connor and his friends all turned, wands raised, and there was a scream at the same time that there were several shouts of, "Stupefy!" before everything went black.

Connor didn't hear the muttered spell that revived him, but his head was pounding when he opened his eyes to find himself lying on the ground. He looked around groggily, and it was a moment before he understood exactly where he was and what he was actually seeing. All of his friends had apparently been stunned in the barrage of spells, but had evidently been revived by his aunt and Professor Lupin, despite the fact that the security wizards were still holding their wands at the ready. His Dad, Mum and Uncle Ron had their wands drawn, but _theirs_ were pointed at the security wizards. Connor wondered exactly how long he'd been unconscious before he'd been revived. He felt a hand gripping his, and he saw that it was his Aunt Hermione. All of them were breathing hard, and the moment seemed suspended into an eternity before one of the security guards finally spoke.

"What are you kids doing in here?" Lawrence snarled. He had left his post, and intruders had gained access to a highly classified area; he was in big trouble with his superiors, and knew it. The fact that it had been children who had breached the security only served to make him angrier; he would never live this down, if he even got to keep his job. Add to that the fact that one of the kids appeared to be Harry Potter's son, and that Harry Potter himself had been here to witness said son being stunned; things weren't looking good for Lawrence Ebner at all.

"We came to stop _her_!" Connor answered, nodding in the direction of the woman lying stunned on the floor, which no one had yet revived. Connor got slowly to his feet, as did his friends, though they all felt a bit unsteady. Connor wondered disjointedly if he had been hit with more than one stunning spell, or if it had just been the fact that an adult had used the spell that left him feeling so weak. Nevertheless, he kept his wand up, not intending to let them stun him again before he had a chance to explain, nor did he break his gaze from the man facing him.

"Get that wand out of my boy's face," his dad growled at the man, who looked as though he'd like nothing more than to hex them all. "He's no threat to you. Connor, kids, lower your wands."

They all lowered their wands, but kept a tight grip on them as Professor Lupin stepped forward to check on the woman on the floor. He felt for her pulse, and turned her so that she was lying flat on her back, still bound from shoulders to knees.

"It's Samantha Tillman," he confirmed.

"We stunned her," Rachel said in a shaky voice. "And tied her up, just in case."

Professor Lupin reached for a golden item on the floor near her, but Connor shouted, "Don't touch that! It's a portkey!"

The professor quickly withdrew his hand and looked sharply at the children.

"That's how she's been getting in here," Connor said. "Before, they thought they were seeing her ghost, but when I dreamed about her, I realized that she wasn't a ghost at all. In my dream she was always holding something in her hand that I couldn't see, and so we guessed that it must be a portkey. There wasn't any other way for her to be coming and going from here without getting caught, and why she seemed to be appearing from thin air when there's no Apparating in here."

"How did you know she was going to be here?" the Security guard asked in confusion. "And who is she? What does she have to do with all of this?"

"Samantha Tillman," said one of the other guards. He seemed to be the oldest of the blue-robed men, and the only one who recognized her name. "She disappeared some twenty years ago, the same night that You-Know-Who returned. She used to be an Unspeakable, but she turned bad."

"And she's been using a port key to come in here and do stuff!" Connor filled in.

"Is this the woman that the nutter who broke in here last time was looking for?" the guard in front of Quentin asked.

Connor realized that he was referring to Andrew Tillman's Father, who had broken in here to search for the ghost of his mother just before Christmas.

"Look," said Lawrence the security wizard, determined to do what he could to salvage the situation. "I don't know what's going on here, but I've got five children and five civilians in an out of bounds, highly classified area. What we're going to do, is we're all going to take this upstairs to Mr. Corwin's office in the Depart of Magical Law Enforcement and sort it out there. I'm going to need all of you to surrender your wands until we talk to Mr. Corwin."

Connor looked to his father for direction, and sighed when his father nodded to him and handed his own wand to Lawrence. Following Harry's example, Lupin, his Uncle Ron and his Aunt Hermione all handed their wands over as well. Connor looked over at Samantha Tillman, and he saw that one of the security wizards was now levitating her, and another was scooping the portkey into his hat, careful not to touch it al all. He mumbled, "Give them over, guys," and surrendered his wand as well. As soon as the security wizard was holding all ten of their wands, Lawrence led them back to the round room and they all stood crowded together inside.

Connor felt his parents take up positions on either side of him, and saw that Rachel's parents were flanking her as well. Zack, Quentin and Ivy were standing on either side of Professor Lupin, and seven security wizards, one levitating the stunned Samantha Tillman, surrounded all of them. The door was pulled shut, and they were plunged into darkness once more as the walls began to spin. When the torches sprang to life, Lawrence called out, "Exit!" and a door to Connor's right sprang open.

He groaned inwardly. All he'd had to do was ask for the room he wanted? His dreams had conveniently left that detail out. He dared not look either of his parents in the face, for fear of seeing the anger and disappointment he was sure was written on them. He could only imagine what sort of trouble him and his friends were now in, and what was worse, was that his parents, Rachel's parents, and Professor Lupin might be in trouble as well. He followed along in the bizarre parade that made their way to the lift outside of the Department of Mysteries, and stared at the floor as he walked. They arrived at the lift, and Connor was urged forward into the small compartment by a hand pressing gently into his back. Not all of them would fit inside, and so two guards accompanied their 'detainees' first, to be followed by the rest of the guards and the unconscious Samantha Tillman in the next available lift.

Connor was standing toward the very back of the lift, and could see his friends in front of him. They, too, were staring at the floor, and no one was speaking. A lump formed in Connor's throat as he felt his father give his shoulder a firm squeeze. Even after all of this, his dad was giving him a measure of comfort and support, and it only served to make him feel guiltier. He wondered how his mum and dad and Rachel's parents had known to come. He supposed that Lupin had found out they were missing and alerted them. In retrospect, it had probably been a bad idea to leave Victoria petrified on a couch in the common room; someone had probably found her and unjinxed her. All it would have taken from there was for Victoria to report them, and Professor Lupin would have had a good idea of where to find them after all of the discussions Connor had had with him about his dreams.

The lift came to a stop on level two, which Connor knew from his study of the Ministry lay-out was the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He had heard his father say on many occasions that Kingsley Shacklebolt was next in line for the Head of that department, and Connor thought it was a shame that he wasn't already in that job. Talking to Mr. Shacklebolt, who was a family friend, would have been a lot easier than explaining things to Mr. Corwin, who was a virtual stranger. As they shuffled out of the lift, Connor paused to swallow hard, trying his best not to let his queasy stomach get the better of him as they were led down a corridor, past a labyrinth of cubicles with wanted posters and maps and scraps of paper tacked up everywhere. They passed a door that was labeled _'Wizengamot Administration Offices'_ and finally came to a door which bore the name of _'Steadman Corwin, Head, Magical Law Enforcement'_.

Lawrence opened the door with his wand, and led them all inside, to a small waiting room, that held a few chairs and a desk on which a plaque read, '_Honoria Truman, Secretary'_.

"Have a seat, everyone," Lawrence ordered, gesturing to the chairs around them. "I'll need to contact Mr. Corwin."

Everyone found seats without speaking, and almost as soon as they were all seated, the other guards arrived, floating Samantha Tillman into the room ahead of them. It was kind of creepy, Connor thought, the way she simply hung there in the air, with her head lolling off to one side. He heard his Aunt Hermione whisper to his Uncle Ron, "Did you notice? She hasn't gotten..." But his Uncle Ron merely nodded and patted her hand, cutting off whatever it was that she had been about to say. He stared at them for a moment, then at Rachel who was seated between them looking miserable.

Once Lawrence had stepped over to the Floo and kneeled to call on Steadman Corwin, the other security guards left the office to go back to their posts, leaving only two behind. They took their places by the door, and stared off into space, an impersonal wall of indifference. Connor let his eyes travel to what he could see of his father without moving his head from its downward facing position, and saw that his father's hands were clenched into fists. To his horror, Connor felt tears beginning to well up in his eyes at the sign of anger in his father, even if it was only his hands. In all of his planning and scheming, I had never once considered how all of this would affect his parents, aside from how they might punish him. Now he had not only brought them to the Ministry in the middle of the night, but now they might be in serious trouble as well. What if they were arrested? They didn't have the protection of being under age, and Rachel had said that just trespassing at the Ministry was punishable by six months in Azkaban! He tried desperately to keep the tears from falling, but one escaped to splash against the tiled floor in front of him. His mother must have noticed this, because in an instant, she was out of her chair and kneeling in front of him.

"Oh Connor," she said, tears welling in her own eyes. "Are you all right?"

He nodded, and sniffed as quietly as possible, aware that every eye in the room was now probably on him. He didn't want his friends to see him crying, especially since this was entirely his fault.

His mother patted his knee to get him to look up at her, and said, "We're here for you."

He nodded again, even though there was huge lump in his throat, and another couple of tears slid from his eyes. It wasn't until his mother sat beside him again, and he felt his father's warm hand on his back that he dared to raise his eye to meet his father's gaze. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered thickly. His Dad simply gave him the smallest of smiles and patted his back in a gesture of comfort. Connor was immeasurably relieved not to see disappointment in his eyes, no matter whatever else his father might be feeling.

"Well," Lawrence said, pulling his head from the fire. "Mr. Corwin will be here presently."

Connor nodded, and wiped his face on his sleeve, pulling himself together before the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement could arrive to see him so forlorn and guilty looking. He chanced at look at his friends, and saw that Rachel was sitting with her head resting on her father's shoulder, while her mother held her hand. Ivy and Zack were sitting stiffly side by side, and Ivy looked as though she were trying not to cry, while Zack sat, tactfully looking away from evidence of Connor's tears. Quentin was sitting beside Professor Lupin, elbows on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. Connor wondered what all of them were thinking, and longed to be able to assure them that he would not let them take any of the blame in this if he could possibly help it.

Before Connor knew it, the Floo against the back wall of the waiting area erupted in green flames, and a tall, intimidating looking man with broad shoulders and thick, wavy hair stepped out of the grate. Lightly dusting away the soot that had gathered on his cloak as he traveled via Floo to his office, he looked around at the motley assortment of adults and children seated around him. He barely gave a second glance at the unconscious woman floating upright, a few inches off of the ground against the wall, and Connor wasn't sure if he'd even seen her there. If he did, he made no comment.

"Potter," he greeted in a brusque voice, once he had sighted Harry.

Harry stood up and said, "Corwin," in the same tone. The two men clasped hands and slapped each other's shoulders in greeting.

"Are you sure you won't reconsider my offer?" Corwin asked Harry after a moment. "A training position, you know; I could make it worth your while."

"Sorry, sir," Harry shook his head in the negative. "I'm happy with what I'm doing right now."

"One of the best Aurors in history quitting to make brooms," the other man said inscrutably. "Who'd have thought?"

Harry simply shrugged.

"Well I hear we've had a bit of trouble here," Mr. Corwin said now, getting to the point. "Enough trouble that I had to be dragged out of bed two hours early."

"Yes sir," Lawrence said. "As I told you in the Floo, these kids were all caught in the Department of Mysteries."

"Yes," Mr. Corwin said seriously. "Well we'll need to get to the bottom of this right now. I think that if we all come into my office, we can find out everything we need to know and decide from there which action needs to be taken. Someone levitate her in, as well, I suppose." He gestured vaguely to the area where Samantha Tillman hovered, and unlocked his office door to admit them all.

Connor was surprised when his father took the liberty of conjuring up enough comfortable chairs for all of them in two rows in front of the wide mahogany desk. He took the seat in the first row, as his father gestured to it, and was soon joined by Ivy, Quentin, Zack and Rachel. They all sat nervously and waited to see what would happen next. Professor Lupin sat directly behind Connor, who was in the middle seat of the front row, and Rachel's parents sat to the left of him, while his mum and dad sat to the right. Mrs. Tillman was levitated into the room, and hovered strangely in the corner, with two security wizards on either side of her. Mr. Corwin stood in the doorway for a moment as though waiting for something, and a moment later, an Auror in his telltale royal blue robes appeared. Corwin whispered something to the Auror, who promptly disappeared back the way he had come, and another Auror (a woman this time) entered the room and stood beside the desk, facing everyone seated.

"So," Mr. Corwin began. He was standing behind his desk, looking at each of them in turn. Connor felt as though the man could see straight into his brain, and swallowed hard when his piercing gray eyes fell on him. "I've heard Mr. Ebner's brief account of what's happened tonight, but I have a feeling that there is much more to this story than his finding a group of children in the Department of Mysteries along with a woman reported to be dead for many years. Which one of you would like to start filling me in?"

Connor took a deep breath. This was the part he had been dreading; admitting that he had willfully broken the law and somehow convincing this man that his friends should not be punished. He started to get to his feet, and almost yelped in surprise when he felt a pair of large hands force him back into his seat.

"If I may, sir?"

Connor looked over his shoulder to see that his father was on his feet. Mr. Corwin nodded, and listened with no discernable expression on his face.

"Sir, I believe that I've shared with you that my son, Connor, has certain... talents," Harry began. "And you'll have seen the papers recently about it as well."

Corwin nodded, and gestured for Harry to continue, saying nothing.

"Earlier this year, at the beginning of the school term, Connor began to have dreams related to the Department of Mysteries. I'm sure that he didn't have any idea at the time what it was he was actually seeing in these dreams, and I'm not quite sure how he figured it out, to be honest. Nevertheless, we consulted a leading expert in the field of Divination and Clairvoyance that we have been in contact with since Connor's talents first made themselves apparent."

"And how long ago was that?" Corwin asked, seemingly unsurprised so far.

"Almost seven years, sir," Harry replied. "Amelia MacTaggart came at our request to talk to Connor about his recent dreams, because we, of course, recognized what he was dreaming of. We called her because it isn't normal for Connor to receive precognitive dreams; he has always been awake when he's made any kind of predictions before. Madam MacTaggart was of the opinion at that time that Connor wasn't having precognitive dreams at all, but was somehow receiving subconscious mental images from me, which were manifested to him in dream form."

"He was reliving your memories," Corwin summarized shrewdly. "From the time that you yourself visited the Department of Mysteries."

"That was what she believed," Harry confirmed. "She advised me to practice my occlumency skills each night before sleeping to prevent any of my thoughts from project to him."

"But she was incorrect?" Corwin guessed.

"Yes sir," Harry answered. "But we were unaware of that until Connor began to have dreams about things outside of my experiences. He dreamed specifically of Samantha Tillman appearing to him and his friends in the Time Room. I'm afraid that from there, I'm not very clear about how it all led to us all being here tonight. We were careful not to mention the Time Room or the Department of Mysteries in his presence, and never dreamed that he would be able to find out on his own."

"If that is so," Corwin asked with a faint furrow in his brow. "Then how is it that you knew they would be here tonight?"

"That would be where I come into this," Professor Lupin said, standing up behind Connor. "I was at Hogwarts late tonight, thinking that I might be needed in case any of the students from Gryffindor house decided to attempt any more April Fool's Day pranks before the day was over. I retired to my own residence in Hogsmeade via the Floo in my office at Hogwarts at approximately 11:30. At a little after one this morning, I was alerted that the children had left Hogwarts grounds, by Angus Arabat, a portrait subject that followed their movements once they left their common room."

Connor looked over to Rachel, who looked stunned at this bit of information. They had actually once discussed the portrait subject in question, who had been the first seeker of the first ever Gryffindor House Quidditch team. Connor could feel Ivy move restlessly in her seat on the other side of him, but no one made any sound as they waited to hear what had happened at Hogwarts in their absence.

"Apparently," the professor continued. "The students believed that my Floo would bring them to the Ministry. They gained access to my office and Connor attempted to use my fireplace, but found it blocked. My Floo connection is strictly for commuting to and from Hogwarts, though they would have had no way of knowing that. From there they traveled to the only other Floo they believed might suit their purposes, which happened to be in the office of Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. Once Angus witnessed the children actually leaving the school, he traveled to a portrait in my home that was place there for expediency in matters of student discipline. He alerted me to their destination, and I hastened back to the school, where I found Connor, Quentin and Zack all absent from their beds, and Victoria Weasley in a body bind and left on a sofa in the Gryffindor common room."

Professor Lupin's narrative was briefly interrupted by a gasp and a hissed whisper from Hermione, "You cursed your own cousin?" Rachel sank lower in her seat, and kept he eyes downcast.

"Victoria informed me that Rachel Weasley and Ivy Longbottom were also among the students that had left the school. Once I followed their trail, several portraits in Professor McGonagall's office confirmed that five students had used the Floo to travel to the Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Games and Sports. I immediately alerted the Potters and the Weasleys, who met up with me at the Ministry of Magic, only to find the Atrium filled with fireworks and in complete chaos. That was our first solid evidence that the children were actually there. How they found the Department of Mysteries from there is a question I think we would all like answered."

"Perhaps you could fill us in further, young man?" If Steadman Corwin had found any of Harry's words remarkable, his stoic face gave no sign. He simply turned his eyes to Connor expectantly, and Connor stood after receiving a brief squeeze to his shoulder by his Uncle Ron.

"Yes, sir," Connor answered nervously, using as respectful a tone as his father had.

He explained how he had overheard his mother ask his father why he would be dreaming of the Department of Mysteries, and how he had taken that clue and built upon it. He tried to leave his friends out of the story all together, and didn't mention the Marauder's Map at all. Occasionally Mr. Corwin's eyebrows would rise or contract together as he listened to Connor's tale, but he didn't interrupt. Connor explained all about how he had recorded his dreams and put them in chronological order, and how he had found the map of the Ministry building and planned to come to catch Mrs. Tillman. He even admitted to setting off the fireworks in the Atrium and using the Chameleon Cloaks to sneak around.

"And," Mr. Corwin said after Connor finished his account of events leading up to this point. "How is it that these other children are here? How are they involved?"

Connor had left them entirely out of his description of events, foolishly hoping that he wouldn't draw any further attention to them. With a tremor in his voice, he said, "Well, Rachel there is my cousin, and the others are my friends. I...I made them come. They tried to talk me out of it, and wanted to tell Professor McGonagall or Professor Lupin, but I wouldn't let them. They only came with me because they were afraid that I would get myself hurt or something."

Mr. Corwin eyed the others, and looked slightly skeptical, but let that matter slide for the moment. "I must say that I'm impressed with your detective work, however misguided your actions have been. I must ask you, now, why you did not listen to your friends' advice and approach an adult with this matter. Minerva McGonagall is a capable and gifted witch, and I'm sure you could have trusted her to see that the proper authorities apprehended Mrs. Tillman."

"Well," Connor said after a brief hesitation. "I thought they'd screw it up."

His uncle Ron laughed outright at this, and earned a slap from Aunt Hermione, but Connor didn't find much humor in the situation. His stomach was tied in knots by now, and he was seriously glad that he had not eaten much of anything before leaving the castle.

"Oh?"

Connor could have sworn he saw Mr. Corwin's lips twitch slightly, but in the next instant he was frowning and asking for an explanation.

"I was afraid that if I told an adult, then Mrs. Tillman might somehow find out that we knew that she was going to come here tonight, and then not show up at all. Who knows if I'd ever get another chance of stopping her from sneaking in? She could be one of those Death Eaters or something; Dad said they never did catch them all. Then I was afraid that if I tried to change the things that I saw in my dreams, then it would change something, and throw everything else off." Connor answered. "I thought that going to an adult would things."

"He's got a point," his Uncle Ron said with a chuckle.

Connor turned grateful eyes to his uncle, and noted that his mother was glaring at her brother angrily, and Aunt Hermione had slapped him again.

"Think about it," Ron defended himself, looking at Harry, Ginny and Hermione. "What would any of us have done in his place?"

"Be that as it may," Corwin interrupted. "These students were found in a highly restricted area of the Ministry of Magic. Connor himself admits that the break in was pre-meditated, and has demonstrated through his actions that he was aware that what he was doing was illegal."

"That's true." Hermione stood to make herself heard. "But at the same time, they never should have been able to get as far as they did if the security here was up to scratch. I'm appalled that five thirteen year old witches and wizards were able to completely bypass every bit of Ministry security with nothing but a map and a pocketful of trick items."

"Now see here," Mr. Corwin said, looking slightly chagrined for the first time. "Our security force is adequate for peace-time defense. Tonight's episode is simply an anomaly in normal operations."

"An anomaly?" Hermione scoffed. "I'm sure that I read in the papers that Samantha Tillman's own son was recently arrested for breaking into the Ministry in search of his mother's ghost."

"Yes he was," Corwin replied. "The key word there is 'arrested.' The Department of Mysteries was in no way compromised."

Mr. Corwin picked up a large earthenware mug from his desk and was raising it to his lips when Connor sudden said, "Don't drink that, sir!"

The department head lowered the mug and looked inside of it, then set it down. "Why?" he asked calmly.

"Because you dropped your cigar in there earlier to put it out," Connor answered.

"Correct," the man replied. "Uncanny. Thank you, that would have been unpleasant."

Connor blushed and nodded. "The Minister is here."

Almost as soon as the words had left Connor's mouth, there was a knock on the door to the office. Connor heard Quentin mutter, "Merlin! The Minister! We're done for!"

**A/N - Well I estimate one more chapter and then the epilogue!! I'm almost done with chapter 35, and then I'll send it off to my lovely beta reader, Brenna, so hopefully it shouldn't be too long. As usual, please let me know what you think of the story!**


	37. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

"_... when you have eliminated the impossible, that which remains, however improbable, must be the truth". - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle**  
**_

Connor bit his lip and looked at Ivy, whose eyes were wide in her pale face, and then at Zack and Rachel on his other side, both of who were looking a bit green. Mr. Corwin rose to his feet, as did all of the adults, who promptly urged the children up as well. As soon as Mr. Corwin opened the door, Madam Bones entered, looking for all the world as though she had been up for hours. Her steely gray hair was perfectly arranged, and her robes neatly pressed, and her eyes bright and alert.

"Madam Bones!" Corwin greeted the Minister with a small bow before shaking her hand. He also nodded to another man in plain gray robes who followed the Minister into the room.

"Steadman," she greeted cordially. "What have we got here? I was informed that there was a break in at the Department of Mysteries."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered.

She looked around the room, and did not hide her surprise at finding it full of people. With a wave of her hand, she gestured that they should all resume their seats, and Connor gratefully sank back into his chair with shaky legs. He watched as she walked up to the hovering figure of Samantha Tillman and screwed a monocle into her eye to study the other woman carefully. The man in gray robes who had followed the Minster into the room blanched at the sight of the ex-Unspeakable, and he nodded to the Minister when she looked to him. Once satisfied with whatever it was she had been looking for, she let the monocle fall from her eye to dangle from a short gold chain that was pinned to her robes. Her eyes alighted on each of the people seated in turn, lingering on Harry for a moment, then on Connor, before moving her gaze on. She was silent for a moment, as if collecting her thoughts before she finally said, "All of these people, including Mr. Harry Potter, were caught breaking in to the Department of Mysteries?"

"Not exactly, Minister," Mr. Corwin replied, sounding only the slightest bit apprehensive at her disbelieving tone. "Just the youngsters. Mr. and Mrs. Potter, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Professor Lupin are all here because they discovered the children missing and came after them." He named all of the adults as if the Minster for Magic would not know who five of the most highly acclaimed Witches and Wizards of the war in which she herself had fought.

Connor breathed a silent sigh of relief, even as Madam Bones looked them all over in one more sweeping glance. It didn't sound like his parents, Rachel's Parents or the professor were going to get into trouble for being there. Any punishment that fell on him now would seem bearable, knowing that his parents were safe from prosecution. Now all he had to do was to convince Mr. Corwin and the Minister that he alone should be punished for everything that had happened.

"I see," the Minister said, looking hard at Connor in particular.

"And what were you children doing here in the middle of the night?" She asked them.

Connor didn't know if it was intuition on the Minister's part, or if he just had a particularly guilty look about him, but her eyes remained trained on him, taking little notice of his friends. "Please, Minister," he said shakily. "This is all my fault." He went on to explain once more the events that had led to this moment, and was grateful that no one interrupted as he spoke.

"Thank you, young man," Madam Bones said, after hearing the tale. "If you will all please wait here, Mr. Jamison and myself will need to take Mrs. Tillman to a private office to be revived and questioned."

Connor guessed that the man in gray robes whom she'd arrived with was Mr. Jamison. He wasn't an Auror, if his robes were anything to judge by, and he vaguely remembered the security wizard saying that an Unspeakable named Jamison had owled to say that his wife and son were sick and that he would not be in to work. It looked as though his family would have to suffer through their illness without him, if this was the same man - though he looked a bit ill now as well. He had hardly taken his eyes from the hovering witch since he had arrived, and now that the Minister had announced that it was time to question the unconscious woman, his expression hardened, and he nodded.

"Madam Bones," Connor turned to look at his father, who had spoken even as he surged to his feet. "I respectfully request to be present at the questioning of this suspect."

"I'm sorry, Harry," She answered, her expression softening. "I'm afraid I can't allow that. The Department of Mysteries is answerable only to the Minister, as you well know, and I have summoned the head of the Time Research team, here, to be present during questioning. I will also have two of my most trusted Aurors to assist. You are no longer an Auror, by your own choice, and therefore not privy to this information."

"But Minister," Harry argued, feeling that her use of his first name was a good sign, but stopped speaking when she held up her hand in denial.

"I'm sorry, but that is the law. I will, however, fill you in on as much that is allowable without compromising the Department of Mysteries' stringent information disclosure protocol."

Harry nodded reluctantly, and resumed his seat. A tall, dark skinned Auror that Connor recognized instantly as Kingsley Shacklebolt came into the room as if sensing the Minister's need, and levitated the unconscious woman out of the room. He remained impassive, though, and gave no sign that he even recognized any of them as he went about his assigned duty. The female Auror who had taken up a post beside Corwin's desk followed the Minister and Mr. Corwin out, followed by Mr. Jamison. The group was left alone, but for the guards that were once more standing stoically by the door

All they could do now was wait. It seemed that none of them wanted to speak, and whether it was because no one knew what to say, or because the guards might overhear, Connor wasn't sure. He had a million thoughts running through his head, but was afraid to voice any of them for fear of bringing his parent's wrath down on him for getting them all into this fix.

"Professor Lupin?" Quentin broke the silence that had fallen over all of them again.

"What is it, Quentin?" the professor's voice was gentle, and his eyes were tired.

"Are we going to be arrested?"

All of the children swiveled in their seats, eager to know, and at the same time, dreading the answer.

"Of course not." It was Ron's sharp voice that answered the question. "They don't arrest children. Especially not for something as trivial as trespassing."

"You don't know that, Ron," his wife said gently.

"I'd like to see them try!" Ron persisted. "Yeah, they broke the rules, but they also caught a potentially dangerous woman, who could have been doing Merlin knows what in there! What if they hadn't come here and gotten her? We could've all woken up tomorrow in a world where Voldemort actually won the war."

"Ron!" Ginny hissed at her brother. "That's enough!"

"Uncle Ron?" Connor asked, confusion written all over her face. What did he mean about waking up in a world where Voldemort won? His dad had beaten Voldemort years before Connor had even been born.

"The _Time_ Room!" Rachel said suddenly, comprehension dawning. "She was trying to change the past!"

"That's certainly something we'll have to consider." Harry said grimly.

Connor looked at his father, not able to wrap his head around what everyone was talking about. I couldn't be true; it just couldn't. Wizards didn't go traveling through time, did they? He could think of dozens of reasons why it just wasn't possible. But what if it was? Samantha Tillman had been spotted before, though everyone had thought the fleeting look they'd gotten of her was a ghost. What if she had already made some changes that would lead to something terrible? Maybe she was going back in time in stages to change events that could...

"Connor," Professor Lupin broke him out of his increasingly disturbing thoughts. "You need to be completely honest and open with us right now."

"Honey," his mother said, smoothing his hair away from his face gently. "Did you have any dreams at all that you didn't tell us about? Was there anything at all that could tell us what Mrs. Tillman might have been doing here?"

"No, Mum," he said. Then he lifted his eyes to address them all before he added, "Honest."

"You're sure?" his father asked.

"Positive," he answered. "I wrote them all down; all of the dreams I had about any of this, I wrote down in the dream journal that Uncle Remus gave me for Christmas. I can show you when we get back to Hogwarts."

"Okay," his Mum said quietly. "We believe you."

"Connor," his dad said, his voice not quite steady. "I need to ask you about the other things you might have seen while you were trying to find Mrs. Tillman."

Connor nodded, feeling afraid at this strange show of emotion from his father. It was as if his dad was still worried about him, even though he was safe now.

"We saw all of the doors with stars on them, so we guessed that those were the ones that you had already checked. I want you to tell me exactly what you remember seeing."

His father's eyes were intense as Connor looked into them, but he told him about them all as best he could. Rachel and the others helped him out with small details here and there, and it wasn't until they came to the part about the room with the stage and the curtain that anyone reacted.

Connor was surprised when his father suddenly sat up straight and put his hands on his shoulders. "You didn't go in that room, did you?"

"No sir," Connor answered. "Well only a little." When he saw that the adults all looked stricken at this admission, he added, "We opened the door, and I stepped out and looked around. The room gave me the creeps, though, and I knew it wasn't the one we were looking for, so we went back to the round room and kept looking."

"Oh thank the Gods!" his dad said with a sigh of relief, falling back into his seat.

Connor looked to see his mother's eyes were a bit wet, and Aunt Hermione had her hand to her chest as if trying to calm her heart. Uncle Ron had a hand on Uncle Remus's shoulder, and Uncle Remus looked unbearably sad for a moment, before taking a deep breath and scrubbing his hands over his weary face.

"What...what's the matter?" Connor asked, not sure he really wanted to know the answer.

"That room," He father said quietly. "That's the room where Sirius died."

"Oh," Connor said. He felt stupid for saying it, but he couldn't find any words that seemed right to him.

"What's going to happen to us now?" Zack asked into the silence that had seemed to stretch for hours.

"I'm not sure," Professor Lupin said. "The Minster is obviously going to carefully question Mrs. Tillman and try to ascertain what sort of threat she poses. That will take precedence over any decision to be made on what to do with us."

"I meant when we get back to school," Zack said, sounding as though he had to force the words out, but was determined to know the worst.

"I really couldn't say," Professor Lupin said. "I'm sure that this is something that Professor McGonagall would want to address personally. On the one hand, you were doing what you felt was right, and on the other hand, you knowingly broke several rules in the process. You endangered yourselves, you hexed another student, and you left school grounds without permission."

"And, er," Connor added sheepishly. "I sort of druggedAndrewTillmanwithsleepingdraught, too."

"Would you care to repeat that?" the professor said with a raised eyebrow.

"Not really," Connor said. At a stern look from his mother though, Connor carefully enunciated each word. "I drugged Andrew Tillman with sleeping draught, too."

"Where did you get sleeping draught?" his Aunt Hermione asked incredulously.

"I made it in potions class yesterday," he answered, his face going red. "But I know that I made it right; it didn't hurt him or anything."

Professor Lupin had a hand over his mouth, and was looking determinedly in the other direction, so it was hard to gauge what he might be thinking. Connor tried not to look at his Uncle Ron, who was shaking with silent laughter, and getting glared at by Aunt Hermione. His mother looked very cross, and his father's expression was unreadable; he almost looked...proud?

"Why," Professor Lupin asked him in a strange strangled voice, "did you find it necessary to drug your roommate?"

"Remus!" Connor's mom sounded as if she were scolding the other man for something, but didn't say anything further.

"Well?" His Aunt Hermione prodded.

"For the same reason we hexed Victoria," Connor said, carefully not admitting to which one of them had done the actual hexing. "I dreamed that he was going to try to stop us from leaving, so we put him to sleep to try to prevent that from happening. The only problem was that instead of Andrew catching us, it was Victoria. It was weird, like because we changed what was supposed to happen, fate or whatever just shifted things around so that Tori took Andrew's place."

"Strange," his Aunt murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

"How did you get Andrew to drink a sleeping draught?" Uncle Ron wanted to know, having gotten his mirth under control.

"I put it in our water pitcher in our room, and then all it took was a simple thirst charm when he wasn't looking. He's probably still sound asleep." Connor looked over at his Mum when she made an exasperated sound in her throat, and ducked his head. Now was definitely not the time to be sounding proud of his underhanded scheme. "Sorry."

Over the next hour, the adults had the children recount their story one more time, asking occasional questions, and making cryptic remarks to one another. Connor was beginning to feel the lack of sleep catching up with him, but knew that none of them would be getting any rest any time soon. His stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him that he had not really eaten anything substantial since the previous morning, and his Uncle Ron obligingly pulled a handful of chocolate frogs from his cloak pocket and offered it him.

"No thanks, Uncle Ron," Connor said, refusing the treat, not sure that his nervous stomach could handle it. "I don't think it would help right now."

Any further discussion was preempted by the arrival of one of the Aurors that had left with the Minister and Mr. Corwin earlier. She asked them all to follow her, as Minister Bones was ready to see them again. Connor's heart began to race again as they all stood and made their way back to the lift and up one floor to the offices of the Minister for Magic.

To their left and right were various offices and cubicles that looked as though numerous clerks and secretaries worked here during regular hours, but they were deserted now. They approached a large door that bore a brass plate signifying that this was the Minister's office, but the Auror turned right just before they reached it and lead them to an adjacent room. This room was large and airy, with huge windows along the wall that were flooded with cheerful sunlight. It took Connor a moment to remember that they were still under ground, and that the sun should not be so high in the sky, if it had even risen yet. He checked his watch to find that it was nearly five in the morning now, though it seemed like days since they had left Hogwarts.

"They're charmed," His father whispered to him when he saw them staring.

Connor nodded and looked around at the rest of the room. There was a huge wooden table in the center, with at least a two-dozen chairs surrounding it. At the head of the table, the Minster of Magic stood waiting for them to enter and gestured for them to be seated. Kingsley Shacklebolt stood beside her, and behind the chair in which sat a very shocked looking Samantha Tillman. Her hands rested on the table before her, and her eyes looked slightly glassy. Connor timidly walked along the row of chairs, but paused when only a few chairs away from Mrs. Tillman, who was seated on the other side of the table, and took a seat. They regarded one another, and Connor was curious as to why this woman didn't seem to be bound or anything. She just sat there with a puzzled look on her face as she stared at Connor, and then her eye shifted to Harry, and she gave a small moan and put a hand to her mouth.

"This can't be!" she said tearfully.

Madam Bones simply placed a hand on Mrs. Tillman's arm in a gesture that looked like comfort or support and waited until all of them were seated. It seemed that the Minister was waiting for something before she began to speak, and simply stood there. A few moments later, footsteps could be heard in the corridor, and four people came rushing through the door, looking extremely anxious.

Ivy and Quentin stood up and gasped as their parents appeared and rushed over their children. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy then took their places on either side of their son, and the Longbottoms flanked their daughter. There were murmured questions and assurances that the children were unharmed before everything settled down once more.

The female Auror that had led them to this conference room took up a place by the door, and an uncertain silence seemed to fall over them all, except for an occasional whimper from the woman that Connor felt was responsible for all this mess. She was in obvious distress, but doing her best to master her emotions.

"I must say that I never would have thought to have a situation such as this on my hands," the Minister spoke at last.

Connor noticed that Mr. Jamison was not in the room, and wondered where he had gone. He looked around briefly at everyone at the table, but the Minister and the woman beside her held everyone else's attention. He noted that Quentin's father was extremely pale, and his mother had her arm around his shoulders protectively. Ivy's parents sat stiffly, as if they were students called into the Headmistress's office for some grave infraction of the rules. Connor looked back the Minister and watched, as she seemed to search to the right words to express her feelings on this matter.

"First, I will tell you that Mrs. Tillman has been questioned under the supervision of highly qualified personnel and under the influence of Veritaserum, which she agreed to freely," Madam Bones told them. "After much thought and consideration, I believe we now have a clear idea of what has happened, and now we must decide what is to be done about it."

The children all shifted uneasily in their seats.

"Madam Bones," Hermione asked respectfully. "We are not at all clear as to what has actually happened here tonight. Is there anything that you might tell us to help clarify matters?"

"Yes," Draco Malfoy added. "I'm afraid that we are at a disadvantage here. I was only informed that my son was involved in some sort of 'incident' at the Ministry, and that my presence was needed immediately."

Connor was glad that they had, in essence, asked what the heck was going on. If Mrs. Tillman had not been arrested, and she was sitting at this table with them, apparently very distressed, then something strange must have happened, to say the least. Since the Malfoys and the Longbottoms were completely in the dark about everything, perhaps more complete explanations would be given.

"Yes, indeed, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy," Madam Bones replied. "Though it was a strange tale. It seems to go back to June of the year 1996, when Death Eaters gained entrance to the Ministry of Magic on an errand for Lord Voldemort."

"I..." Samantha Tillman spoke quietly, but gained everyone's attention with that single syllable. "I was working late that night," she said shakily. "In the Time Room. I was just putting my research notes and items away, when I heard the door open. I thought that Darius Jamison must have forgotten something and come back for it. He was new to the department, and very eager, but was always forgetting something, so I wasn't alarmed." She paused in her story to look again from Connor to Harry and back again, as if she couldn't believe her eyes. "I turned around to ask him what he'd left behind this time, and came face to face with a large group of Death Eaters. I think I must have frozen in panic; I didn't even go for my wand. There weren't supposed to be Death Eaters running around! The Minister has been... had been telling us for months that there wasn't any truth to the rumors about You-Know-Who being back."

At this point, a door behind the Minister that Connor had not noticed before opened slowly, and a pair House Elves entered, carrying a large tea tray. It took only moments for the efficient elves to pour out several cups and make sure that everyone was serves before departing, and Samantha Tillman seemed grateful for both the interruption, and for the tea. She sipped at her cup before setting in down, rattling into the saucer and continuing her tale.

"I'm afraid that's all I really remember," She said regretfully. "One of them shouted, '_stupefy_,' and the next thing I knew, Harry Potter was standing in front of me, and one of his companions was shouting, '_stupefy_' again; then I woke up to find Madam Bones and several others staring down at me."

"I don't follow you," Harry said with a furrowed brow. "This is the first time I've met you."

"Harry," the Minister said gently. "When Mrs. Tillman appeared, she saw young Connor, here, and believed him to be you. The resemblance is uncanny."

"Samantha Tillman," came a voice from the back of the room. "Was not stunned by the Death Eaters that night."

It seemed that Mr. Jamison had returned from wherever he had been, and was now approaching the head of the table. He whispered something to the Minister, and then turned back to face the group.

"When the Death Eaters cast the stunning spell at her," he continued. "It hit a time turner that she was holding at the time. After examining the piece that the younger Mr. Potter knocked from her hand earlier this morning, I think that we have determined why Samantha she been sighted repeatedly, yet fleetingly since her disappearance. You see, the spell damaged the time turner in her hand, and broke a hole in the glass of the lower globe of the hourglass. The crystals that escaped the globe activated the time turner, and Samantha vanished almost immediately. Whenever she reappeared, more of the crystals would spill out, and she would vanish again, basically stuck in limbo instead of being transported back in time as a fully functional time turner is supposed to do."

"How can we be certain that she hasn't been hiding out in the past?" Draco Malfoy asked suspiciously.

"Because her account of events was first told to us under the influence of veritaserum," Mr. Jamison replied. "The first words out of her mouth when she was revived were about Death Eaters in the Ministry, and, well, just look at her! She looks to be somewhere between forty or forty-five years old, when in fact, she should be sixty-four. That's because she _is_ only between forty or forty-five. She simply stopped aging when she vanished."

"That would also explain why she thought that Connor was Harry," Ron added.

"I've lost twenty years of my life," Samantha Tillman said quietly. "I still can't believe it."

No one really knew what to say. Connor wondered if this woman's husband was still alive, or if he had remarried, or what her son or Andrew would do now. Surely they would be pleased.

"I should also add that the remains of the time turner indicated that this may well have been Mrs. Tillman's last appearance," Mr. Jamison said gravely. "There were only a few grains of the sand crystals left in the hourglass at all, and had young Mr. Potter not acted so quickly to remove it from her grasp, she may well have disappeared forever. We would never have known what became of her. She has her life back now, thanks to him."

"When I was attacked by Death Eaters," she said. "The return of You-Know-Who was just a terrible rumor that Cornelius Fudge told us to ignore. Harry Potter was just a little boy! Now he's sitting here in front of me with a son of his own, and Derrick tells me that not only was it true that You-Know-Who was really back at the time, but that all of Wizarding Britain fought a war, and Harry Potter defeated him. I have so many questions to ask! I don't even know where to start! What has become of my husband? My son? Where am I going to...?"

"It's okay, Samantha," Derrick Jamison stepped forward to calm her and took her hands in a gesture of comfort. "We'll get all of those questions answered. Come with me now, and we'll get you looked at by a healer and contact your family."

Connor watched as the time-displaced witch was led away, then looked at everyone else in the room, relieved to see that he wasn't the only one who was stunned by everything they had just heard. His Mum had tears in her eyes, and so did Aunt Hermione. Uncle Ron looked thoughtful as he sipped at his long forgotten tea, and his dad was staring into space, not really seeing anything or anyone in the room.

"Excuse me," Ivy's mother said timidly. "I understand a bit about Mrs. Tillman's reappearance, but it still doesn't tell me why Ivy and her friends are all here. How did they get here? What have they got to do with all of this?"

Connor was exceedingly glad that the Minister took matters into her own hands and that he didn't have to tell his story yet again. He sipped at his tea, and let his thoughts wander a bit in his fatigue while everyone's questions were answered. By the time that Madam Bones finished the tale, and all of the adults were brought up to speed, Connor's eyes were drooping, and he was finding it hard to focus on the conversation.

"So Mrs. Tillman was never sneaking in here to sabotage the Ministry?" Rachel asked, sounding way too alert for someone who had been awake for so long.

"Not at all," the Minister confirmed. "Though I can easily understand why you must have thought that was the case. Now we must figure out what is to be done about you children."

Connor felt as though someone had tossed a bucket of freezing water on him at these words, and everyone in the room sat up straighter and looked warily at the Minister.

"I must admit, Mr. Potter," she began, looking at Harry. "I have no idea how your son's talent really works, but it's obvious that it _does_ work. I was very skeptical when I read about it in the _Prophet_, and dismissed it as so much nonsense and sensationalism."

"We have been careful with who we confided in over the years," Harry answered. "But Connor does have precognitive abilities that seem to be growing as he grows."

"You will need to take very great care to see that he receives as much education as possible in this area," the Minister said with a small smile. "And keep the vultures away."

"Yes," Harry replied. "We've had some experience in that area already."

"I'm sure you have," Madam Bones agreed. "Now for what to do with you. Normally breaking into the Ministry and trespassing into a highly classified and _dangerous area_," she looked meaningfully at the children at this part, "would require serious discipline."

"Excuse me, Madam Bones," Connor said quietly. He stood up as he interrupted her, and looked pleadingly at his parents as they tried to urge him back into his seat. "I have something I would like to say."

Everyone was quiet as the Minister nodded, indicating that Connor should speak his mind.

"When all of this started," Connor said, praying to the powers that be the he could choose the right words. "It all seemed like a bit of a game. It was a bit of a mystery that needed solving, and I guess that I used poor judgment in bring my friends in on it with me. I know that I probably should have told an adult or found a way to do this without involving them."

"What is it that you're trying to say, Connor?" the Minister asked kindly.

"What I'm trying to say, is that it was my fault that my friends ended up here tonight, and that they were always the ones who tried to talk me out of all of this and to tell an adult. I wouldn't listen to them, and so they came here tonight to try to protect me," Connor said as firmly as he could. "I would like to ask that whatever punishment you would give to them... that it be given to me instead. I'll take whatever punishment that you see fit to give for them."

His friends looked like they wanted to protest, but he glared at them in warning.

"Why?"

Madam Bones' question was a simple one, but it caught Connor off guard. He didn't need long to think about it, though, and answered. "Because I don't think that they should be punished for doing what they thought was the right thing. I made them come here, and I would hate to see them get into trouble for that."

"Connor," Madam Bones said. "I admire your desire to protect your friends, but I sincerely doubt that they needed to be forced to come to your aid. However, I happen to agree with you that none of you should be penalized for doing what you felt was right, at least in this particular instance. There are many extenuating circumstances involved in this case, and I believe they must be taken into account. There is no doubt in my mind that you saved a woman's life tonight, and that your intentions were only good and sincere. I feel sure that you never would have taken the measures, and broken the laws that you did, had you not felt that the need was dire."

Connor listened to the Minister talking, and could hardly believe his ears! Could she truly mean what it sounded like? Was she really going to let them go without serious punishment? "No ma'am," he answered her fervently. "Never."

"In that case, here is what I intend to do," she said. "I am going to ask each of you not to discuss the particulars of this matter with others outside of this group, and perhaps Minerva McGonagall. I have a feeling that the press will have a field day with the return of Mrs. Tillman, but you would probably be best served to simply restrict your reply to that of, 'no comment.' You may be questioned further at a later date, so that our security team can fix the serious breaches in security that allowed a group of children to penetrate the Ministry as far as they did. In exchange for agreeing to this, I will grant each of you a full pardon, with no charges filed. Is that acceptable to all of you?"

The children all nodded their heads furiously in amazement, and remained silent. Their parents and professor all sagged in relief, and thanked the Minister profusely. The sun had well and truly risen by the time the Minister led them personally to the Floo in her private office, as it was the only one at the Ministry that allowed access to the Headmistress's office at Hogwarts. Connor wondered if he would be forced to attend his classes today; he could barely keep his eyes open, and saw that the others were showing the same fatigue that he felt. A glance at the large clock on the wall over the Floo told Connor that Most of the students in the castle would be waking up by now, and he wondered if Victoria had already spread the word about the five of them sneaking out last night and not coming back yet.

They would all be traveling by Floo back to Hogwarts, where each of the students knew that their parents would want to have private words with them. Zack looked a bit lost, and Professor Lupin kept a hand on his shoulder, and Connor heard him say that they would have a long letter to write to Mr. and Mrs. Ellis when they returned to the castle. Zack looked miserable, but Connor was confident in the knowledge that the professor would work out a way to inform Zack's parents without scaring them to death, and forbidding him to return to school next year.

Professor Lupin urged the Longbottom Family to use the Floo first, and Connor watched Ivy's father and mother spin out of sight. Ivy stepped in and was about to throw down her pinch of Floo power, when Madam Bones had her final say.

"Just remember, children," she said with a hint of a smile. "You are not going to be punished by the Ministry. I have a feeling that the same will not hold true for Hogwarts once Minerva McGonagall has had her say in all of this. Good day to you."

With those less than comforting words, the Minster for Magic left Kingsley Shacklebolt to supervise their departure from her office, and exited the room.


	38. Epilogue

Foreshadowing the Past

Epilogue

_"The real problem is what to do with the problem-solvers after the problems are solved." – Gay Talese_

The days that followed the ordeal at the Ministry were a bit of a blur to Connor two weeks later. Professor McGonagall had been called back from Edinburgh after the children had gotten adequate food and rest in the hospital wing, and had sat in disbelieving silence as she listened to the tale of what had transpired in her absence. When Professor Lupin got to the part of the story where the children broke into her office and used her Floo to escape to the Ministry, her face had turned gray, and then red. She might have stopped the account then and there to mete out a punishment, if it hadn't been for the fact that there was obviously much more of the story to be told yet. By the end of it all, she simply sat staring at the students and their parents for a moment, before saying anything.

"I don't think that I have heard of anything quite like this in all of the time that I have been Headmistress of this school," she said. "I think that it goes without saying that you were all very, _very_ lucky to have escaped this entire escapade without serious harm or injury! Mr. Potter's precognitive abilities aside, it was an incredibly foolish thing to do! When I think of all of the things that could possibly have gone wrong, I...."

Professor McGonagall's scolding was interrupted just then, by a flash of red and gold fire in the center of the office, directly over Connor's head. Everyone cried out in alarm for a moment, until they noticed that a rolled parchment had fallen into Connor's lap bearing a red wax seal that bore the image of a phoenix on it.

"Fawkes," Harry said with a chuckle. "It must be a message from Dumbledore."

Connor nodded, still breathing heavily from the shock of having a Phoenix deliver him a message in such a spectacular way. He was about to break the seal to see what the letter said, when a large owl soared into the room through a small window and landed on a perch beside Professor McGonagall's desk.

"That's a Ministry owl," Draco Malfoy said knowledgably.

Professor McGonagall deftly untied the envelope bearing the Ministry seal from the owl's leg, and pulled a sheet of creamy parchment from it. Her eyes scanned the letter while they all waited in silence, and then she read the letter once more. While she was reading, Connor took the opportunity to open his own letter. It was very short, but made him smile just the same.

_Dear Connor,_

_Not quite the way I would have suggested going about it, but well done._

_Yours truly,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

"Very well," Professor McGonagall said cryptically when she finished reading and lay the letter face down on her desk. She looked at the open parchment from Dumbledore, and asked, "Did you have something to share with the rest of us Connor?"

"Oh!" he said, blushing slightly and shrugging. "Not really."

Connor relinquished the letter when his mother plucked it from his fingers and looked over the brief message. She smiled slightly and passed it to his father, who chuckled. He passed the note on to the Headmistress, who scowled slightly before setting it down as well.

"It seems that you children have managed to impress quite a few important people in the past two days," she said. "I have here a letter from none other than the Minister of Magic herself, who has written to me on behalf of Mrs. Samantha Tillman. Mrs. Tillman wanted to convey her deepest and most heartfelt thanks to my students for their miraculous appearance and subsequent rescue at the Ministry, and she asks that I take your altruism into account before dealing out too hard a punishment upon you all. Although Albus Dumbledore hasn't said as much in words, he too, seems to feel that leniency is called for under the circumstances."

The children all held their breaths, afraid to hope that they would escape the worst.

"I think therefore, that while perhaps you don't deserve a very harsh punishment, I must impress upon each of you the seriousness of your actions in breaking into two locked offices, roaming the school past curfew, and leaving school grounds without permission. Not to mention the hexing of one student, and the intentional drugging of another!" She said firmly. "You will each lose twenty-five points from Gryffindor House, and you will all serve a week's worth of detentions with Professor Lupin."

Most of the adults flinched at the loss of points for Gryffindor, and Harry, Neville and Hermione knew especially how hard the next few weeks could be for the five of them, having similarly lost a large number of combined points in their first year at Hogwarts. Unfortunately for the current students, it was doubtful that they would have the opportunity to make up those points in the next two and a half months left in the school year. To their credit, the children all nodded meekly, and accepted their punishments without argument. Connor was doubly relieved, because Professor Lupin could have made it known at any time that the kids all had access to the Marauder's Map, but he had remained silent.

Connor's discussion with his parents afterward was not as bad as he had expected, owing partly to the fact that they could understand his reasoning in not confiding in an adult, and partly because they were so happy he was safe. Connor bid them goodbye after they had made it understood that he would spend a good portion of his summer working for his father and uncle. His father said that they would see if working him to exhaustion might help to keep any other dreams at bay, but Connor wasn't terribly worried; he liked helping his father.

Rachel's parents were similarly sympathetic, mostly because her father thought that she had shown true Gryffindor bravery, and her mother had been impressed with the advanced spellwork and research that had gone into it. While they didn't condone sneaking out of school, they were at least proud of the fact that she had done her best to make sure that they were all being as sage as possible while breaking the law. She, too, was assured extra work once school let out for the summer holiday.

Ivy's parents were a little more shaken up by her involvement in their adventure. Her mother kept hugging her repeatedly, while her father continually asked her if she was sure that she was okay. In their relief, they didn't seem inclined to dole out any further punishment than the headmistress had already done.

Quentin's parents, on the other hand, were not so forgiving. Having to deal with Vanessa's disciplinary problems twice this year, and now being called to the school because Quentin was in trouble, seemed to have taken its toll. The shouting that could be heard from Professor Lupin's office only subsided when the Professor himself interrupted and intervened. Connor had been in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom with his own parents at the time, and had sat there with wide eyes until the shouting died down. Lupin had gone to mediate, but Connor wasn't reassured. With a trembling hand, Connor had grasped at his father's robe and pleaded with him. "It wasn't Quentin's fault! Don't let him get in trouble because of me!"

Connor didn't know what his father had said, but he had gone and gently knocked on the office door, and gone inside for what seemed an hour. When he had emerged, Quentin looked sober and red-eyed, as did his parents, but when it came time for them to leave, they hugged him hard, and Connor could have sworn her heard Mr. Malfoy say, "I'm proud of you." The biggest comfort had been seeing the fathers shaking hands sincerely before they parted.

Zack had spent the better part of three hours after the meeting with McGonagall composing a letter to his parents under the supervision of Professor Lupin, who added a letter of his own and sent it off with Zack's owl Godric. Godric had returned the next day bearing a thick letter from Mr. and Mrs. Ellis. Connor watched Zack reading it over breakfast, and by the blush rising into his face, he was sure that if his friend's parents had been magical, the letter would have been a Howler. When they had asked him how his parents had taken the news, he had said that he had a feeling he wouldn't be straying far from home over the summer, but that he didn't think that they were angry enough to prevent him from returning in the fall.

The weeks' worth of detentions ended up being a blessing in disguise after the other Gryffindors learned of the dramatic loss of points. Having hexed Victoria and disappearing overnight had left their housemates in no doubt as to how those points had been lost, and not being able to explain their actions meant that there would be no sympathy forthcoming. It was a relief to be able to escape the nasty comments and harsh glares of the other Gryffindors for three hours each night for a week, even if it did involve all sorts of unpleasant chores. Vanessa had shown up at their first night of detention, and they had braced for trouble, or at least a load of snide remarks, but they never came. To all of their shock, she simply ignored everyone but Quentin, and gave him a brief hug and said, "I'm glad you're okay..._Leo_." She left without another word.

Much to their relief, Ivy, Quentin and Connor were not disallowed Quidditch, and though the other players attitudes were cool toward them, they didn't lose their places on the team. Beating Ravenclaw soundly three weeks later did a lot toward thawing the other's attitudes toward them, and winning the Quidditch Cup did the rest, by restoring most of the lost points. They may not win the House Cup, but they would not be totally humiliated in the points standing, either.

Andrew Tillman, of course learned all about his grandmother's rescue from the accidental limbo she had been trapped in. He had been called into Professor McGonagall's office with Professor Lupin, and was told the entire story. From there, he had been taken home for the weekend, and had returned preoccupied and slightly confused. He had stiltedly thanked Connor for his part in returning his grandmother to his family, and told him there were no hard feelings over the sleeping draught. Connor thought that maybe it would take some time for Andrew to really realize the enormity of the changes coming into his life. He wanted to ask about all of the things that Mrs. Tillman had talked about; whether or not her husband was still alive and how his father was handling having her back. He kept his questions to himself, figuring that he would find out through the Daily Prophet soon enough.

The Daily Prophet did, indeed, have a field day with the return of Samantha Tillman. Connor suspected that much of the excitement over her reappearance had to do with the mystery that surrounded it. There were vague rumors that a group of children had been involved, and that war hero Harry Potter had been spotted at the scene, along with several of his close friends and family members. Unfortunately for the eager readers of the paper, the only statement that Mr. Potter would make was that he was delighted that Mrs. Tillman was back home with her family, and that he had no further comment to make regarding his rumored involvement. The articles had generated a lot interest among the student, and Andrew was in the spotlight for a few days, but didn't say much about it; he had never known his grandmother, and his father had suffered terribly over her absence. It would just take time.

The news articles also sparked questions in some of the students, especially in Gryffindor House. The reappearance of a woman long thought dead on the same night that five students had been missing from school was suspicious to many of them. Added to that was the fact the one of those missing students had precognitive abilities, and that his own father had been rumored to have played a role in it all. Very suspicious, without a doubt, but none of the five students would say where they had been or if they had been involved one way or the other.

The oddest thing of all for Connor was that after the events at the Department of Mysteries, his precognitive abilities seemed to have been magnified. He had no more predictive dreams of any kind, but his daily life was peppered with simple clairvoyant images in abundance. Everything from knowing that someone had unscrewed the lid to the salt shaker at dinner, or knowing that Aiden would trip over his untied shoelace, to predicting that Professor Flitwick would decide to stay on and teach for one more year. Connor took it in stride, and worked hard to not let it distract him too much. He dutifully wrote home to report the increased frequency of incidents, but for the most part kept his mouth shut about them, unless he thought it might be detrimental not to issue a warning.

His parents wrote back to say that they had asked Madam MacTaggart _and_ Dumbledore about it. Both of them seemed to think that fulfilling the quest to free Mrs. Tillman may have unlocked a dormant part of Connor's abilities, and that perhaps he might be well served to be trained in Occlumency after all, in an effort to block them out when it became a distraction. They promised (much to Connor's chagrin) to look into a private tutor for him for the summer holidays to help him master the technique as much as possible before next term.

The rest of the school term went by in a blur. N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s were held, and all of the other grades had their normal end of year exams. Before any of them were quite ready for it, they were packing their trunks. Zack was dreading going home, as he was sure that his parents would not have forgotten the letter they had gotten censuring his behavior at the beginning of April. Quentin was dreading being cooped up with Vanessa, who, after her initial display of affection toward her brother, had gone back to her usual sneers and rude comments to all of the Gryffindors.

On the train ride home from Hogwarts, Aiden shared their compartment with them, making it impossible for them to talk freely about exactly why their summer would be so miserable. Instead they played exploding snap and dared to hope that by the end of the holiday, their parents might have cooled off enough to let them get together for a few day before meeting again on September first. Zack was pretty sure that he would not be allowed, and Quentin seemed to feel the same way.

When they alighted at King's Cross, they found their parents all standing together in deep discussion, but they quit talking when they spotted their children. Mr. and Mrs. Ellis hugged their son, and didn't seem as stiff as Connor had expected them to be. He shook their hands and was as polite as he could be in the hopes that they would be more inclined to trust their son to visit Potter Headquarter later in the summer.

"It's nice to meet you," Mrs. Ellis said warmly to all of the friends. "Zack has told us a lot about all of you. I'm glad that he has such loyal companions at school. Mr. Potter has been in touch with us over the past few weeks, and explained certain things about Connor and your little... escapade in April. He assured me that your motives were earnest and that nothing like this would happen again."

The children all nodded in agreement.

"In that case, I think that it wouldn't be a problem for Zack to accept the invitation to spend the last week of August at the Potters with the rest of you."

It took a moment for what she had just said to really sink in, but Zack was grinning from ear to ear. Connor turned to look at his parents for confirmation, and found them grinning back at him.

"Ivy's parents and Quentin's parents have already agreed," Mrs. Potter said. It went without saying that Rachel would come as well. "Provided you can all stay out of trouble until then."

The children agreed that they would do their best, and then it was time to say their good-byes. With promises to owl each other often, they walked away with their parents, glad to have something to look forward to at the end of the summer, when they could meet again to plan more adventures for the coming year.

**A/N - Well there tou have it!! What did you think? Did it meet your expetations? I hope so! I want to thank everyone who revied the whole what through and leant their support to my efforts. I will ask that all of you lurkers out there take a minute to review - even if it's only one word, to let me know that you've been reading. I take anonymous and unsigned reviews, and it really only takes a minute!!**

**For those of you who have asked if I'll continue on with Connor and company, I can answer you with a definite maybe. Probably. I'm actually working on an outline for their third year right now to see if it all works out, but it's looking good so far, so stay tuned. If it gels for me, I may start writing it in the next few weeks.**

**Once again, thanks to everyone who read this. I hope you enjoyed it enough to check out my other stuff (hint! hint!)**


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